


Four, Love.

by JohnLear



Series: Breaking it in [2]
Category: Shefani, The Voice (US) RPF
Genre: AU, Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Falling In Love, Family, Fluff, Happy Ending, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, PTSD, staying in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-18
Updated: 2017-03-23
Packaged: 2018-09-25 06:41:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 45,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9807824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JohnLear/pseuds/JohnLear
Summary: After six years, Blake has returned to California--clean--to spend thanksgiving and the proceeding holidays with his family. An unexpected run in with his former lover leaves Blake reluctant to forgive so easily, but is unable to stay away. Blake has piloted the turbulent waters of addiction but soon must figure out how to navigate the tempestuous waves of love with the threat of another contender on the battlefield looming over him.





	1. Just because you've forgotten, that don't mean you're forgiven.

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to the world of L.A. sun and green, fresh grass. Hope you don't miss the snow too much. This is the first chapter of this story and I have no idea how long it will be. Definitely not fifteen chapters, sorry. It's short but rest assured the other chapters will be longer since there won't be that many. The title of this chapter is from the phenomenal song My body is a cage, by Arcade Fire, as are the lyrics to start the chapter. I recommend giving it a listen as this song was most of my inspiration for writing this chapter.

_ I'm standing on a stage of fear and self-doubt, it's a hollow play, but they'll clap anyway. _

 

Six years.   
  
He had been clean for four of them. But his clean bill of health was not the thing that surprised him about where he was in his life now. It was where he had traveled to. What door he currently stood in front of. The car that Adam had provided when he checked into his hotel came to a stop at an address he was unfamiliar with but remembered clearly. He had tried to escape from its confines one too many times. Now, Blake stared up at the looming mansion with the subtle traces of anxiety. 

It had been years since he stepped foot on American soil.

Against the monochromatic back light of the clouds, the city was ugly and foreboding. The traffic was heavy and hurried, but despite his distaste for the town, he couldn't help but think how beautiful its neighborhoods were. Especially the one Adam and his family presided in. 

The dark-skinned driver cleared his throat pointedly, lifting one dark eyebrow in the rear view mirror when Blake snapped his eyes over to regard him. He retrieved his wallet but the driver shook his head. “Mr. Levine has taken care of it. Would you like me to stay and wait until you are finished to drive you back to the hotel, Mr. Shelton?” 

Blake flinched at the use of his last name in such a posh manner. He could never get used to stuff like this. Blake shook his head. “You can leave..thank you.”

The man nodded, and Blake stepped out onto the pavement, pulling the collar of his shirt away to shield his neck from the onslaught of heat and sweat. His body never really did like the hot temperature, even in his childhood. He blames the war mostly. 

Looking around, Blake saw children playing in other yards, adults speaking to each other across driveways, while the dogs ran around and barked at a flock of birds. It was all so...normal. Blake didn't know what to think. 

He used the spare key that Adam have given him the day before. When Blake refused to stay with his brother, Adam took offense and it was only when Blake explained that his space was really important and keeping up with his recovery, that he finally relented, giving him a key just in case of an emergency. Apparently, helping Behati decorate the house for Axel’s surprise eleventh birthday party was a dire situation. Nonetheless, Blake was happy to help in whatever way he could, even more excited to surprise the kids when they got home from school. He unlocked the door with a steady hand and stepped inside. He peered up, into an antique chandelier with gold bulbs. The staircase was still as grand as ever, circular, providing a beautiful view to the top where small, symmetrical windows allowed an abundance of natural light to shine through.

He heard noises to his right and made his way past one of the sitting rooms and the dining room, listening for Behati’s usual signs of domestication.

Finally, he was stood in the doorway of the kitchen. The walls were still a hideous shade of green, but the appliances were still shiny and expensive as he remembered them. Music was playing softly in the background and Blake noticed it was Sinatra. 

He scraped a hand through his hair, his mouth dry as he rounded the corner and then he was standing face-to-face with his former lover, older and different in countless ways, but still no less enchanting than he remembered. He wasn’t sure how he’d react to seeing Gwen again for the first time in six years, but the amount of anger he felt was almost alarming. He thought that time would dampen the emotion, rehab would rehabilitate those hideous memories of her walking out on him, but all the same, his vision clouded with rage.   
  
Ash-blonde hair bleached a pretty shade of pale from the sun. Smooth, white skin revealed a few new lines around dimmed, deep-set chocolate eyes. Beneath the blue tank top, Blake noted the addition of sinewy muscle, the way Gwen’s veins pressed against her skin in stark relief. She looked healthy, and happy. 

He blinked once, slowly, and met Gwen’s surprised gaze.   
  
“Gwen,” he spoke. The name came out tight and guttural, sharp as barbed wire as it left his throat. There was definitely anger there, but he hadn’t been expecting the relief. It washed over him like rain after an endless drought, and Blake couldn’t contain the breath of wonder that swept past his lips. 

She stiffened, one hand reaching absently up to her breastbone, the other clutching a baking spoon. Her breath hitched, and she licked her lips. Blake’s eyes dropped to follow her tongue, unable to catch his breath fast enough at the surge of memories attached to that appendage.

“Bl...Blake, what--” Gwen stopped, blinking rapidly as if to convince herself that Blake was really there. Her grip tightened on the spoon. “What are you doing here?”   
  
The question snapped Blake out of whatever sentimental haze he’d begun to fall into, and like a brick snapping from a rope, the pain of every last year without Gwen came crashing down upon his head until all he saw was red.

Blake took a step forward, then another, relishing the bob of Gwen's throat as she swallowed, the slight puff of air he was close enough to feel as Gwen gasped, and most of all, the delicate peony flush blooming on the crest of her cheeks. Blake narrowed his eyes down at his former lover. 

“Thanksgiving is next week. Adam invited me. I'm supposed to help put up decorations for Behati…” He murmured, closing the gap between them until Gwen was either forced to step back or give in. “Where is she?”

She stepped back. “We ran out of eggs for the brownies. She went to the store.”

He nodded, not caring one bit.

“You’re here.” It wasn't a question and yet Gwen still seemed puzzled by it.

“I leave after the New Year.”

_Just like you did._

Her eyes widened even more and she took a step closer to him. “I didn't--I never asked about you.” The words stung but Blake was expecting as much. He broke down twice in the six years he spent without her and asked Adam how she was doing. “Did you--are you…”

He nodded. Just like he said he would. He just wasn't ready at the time.

Gwen’s eyes darkened as she stepped forward again. “How long?”

“Four years.”

Her eyes watered and she took that last step, chests brushing, fingers aching to grab a hold. “I should have asked about you,” she murmured quietly.

Blake knows it wouldn't have been good if she did. He felt her fingers brush up the length of his arm and he couldn’t stand it anymore. He felt the warm pull of adrenaline and desire, so close to the very person he’d been longing for in the past years, and like a dehydrated man in an oasis, he drank.

Gwen didn’t make a move to ward him off as he surged forward and fit his lips over Gwen’s, biting, sucking, anything to push himself as far inside Gwen as possible. He expected Gwen to fight back, push him, punch him, anything but the passivity he was treated with as he crowded them back across the kitchen and against the refrigerator door.

She hissed, hand wrapped around Blake’s nape as he thrust his tongue as far into her mouth as it could go, slamming her head back against the door in the process. Her nails scratched at the skin of his neck and lower scalp, and the distinctly uncomfortable pang of hurt was thrumming away in his chest as the heat in his groin warmed pleasantly at the softness of Gwen’s body pressed against his. He still remembered what made his lover jump, the algorithm to the perfect climax for Gwen. Despite his anger, Blake ached to bring her to the pinnacle and hold her there, then bring them both crashing down to a stupefying conclusion, panting and wet.   
  
Gwen, mouth slack and humid under his onslaught, full lips parted on uncontrollable gasps, struggled to keep up. Long, blunt fingers curled into Blake’s shoulders. The pain of her nails dulled through layers of fabric, but the heat of it still seeped through.

Blake was only here to put up decorations. He hadn’t been planning any of this, to see Gwen and fall backwards into the same unfathomable well he’d spent six years attempting to climb his way out of, but less than a minute in the woman’s presence rendered him useless. Those coffee colored eyes he adored still inflamed him as they ever did, too many shades that they often looked hazel up close. Everything about Gwen was still extraordinary, and Blake loathed that even in his outrage, these things still mattered.

Gwen grew tense and suddenly tore herself away, pushing past him as she ran trembling hands down her hair and clothes. She wasn’t even looking at him, now, instead behind him to the kitchen doorway. Blake turned around and saw Behati standing there, watching them, one paper bag in hand and the other clutching her purse. He cleared his throat and wiped at his mouth. 

“Bee.”

She recovered quickly and smiled at him warmly, setting the bags down on the counter. He met her halfway for a long hug.

“It’s good to see you.” She murmured into his shoulder.

“It's good to come back every now and then.” He said it as if he hadn't just spent the last six years trying to avoid this very place.

They pulled away at the same time, and Behati pointed a finger at his chest. “I got your room setup and everything and then Adam tells me you’re not gonna stay here.”

“I’d just be in the way.”

“It's a mansion, Blake.”

He smirked. His eyes flitted toward Gwen but she wasn't looking at him, instead focusing on the batter she was mixing before he arrived.

“The decorations are in Adam’s study. If you want, you can start with Axel’s bedroom and then work your way down.” Behati said. Gwen puffed out an exasperated breath behind him, right after the words had left her friend’s mouth and Blake had to stuff down the urge to grab and push her body up against the nearest surface. “Adam should be wrapping up his meeting at one and your brother said he would pick all the kids up and bring them here when we’re ready. People should be arriving around five and Leo said he’d be over with Adam when they’re finished, Gwen.”

The two women shared a look amongst each other that was irritation and fear on Gwen’s part and knowingly reprimanding on Behati’s. Blake tilted his head and regarded both women for a long moment, before he finally spoke up.

“Leo? Who’s Leo?” Blake inquired, turning to face the counter fully which both moms stood behind.

As much as Gwen liked to think she’d mastered the art of concealment, Blake could see past it like transparent film; her guilt, her remorse, her regret, her depression. It was all things that he didn't know existed now or where just remnants from the past. But he didn't see that same trepidation in Gwen’s eyes when he had her pinned to the fridge, only when  _ Leo  _ was brought up. 

“Leo is Gwen’s--”

“Behati.” Gwen effectively cut her off. She spared her friend a desperate look and then one for himself. There was a plea Gwen refused to voice, but the disparity between what she tried to project and the desperate glimmer of her incandescent eyes were telling.

“Who is he?” Blake asked again, quieter now.

Gwen’s lips thinned until they paled, and Blake soaked in every bit of discomfiture that crossed her unassuming features. Her brows drew inward and Blake nearly bared his teeth in frustration.

_ Don’t say it. Don’t mean it when you do. _

“He’s...we’re...we're engaged. He’s my fiance.”

The silence in the room was deafening. Gwen’s words burned, little, hot coals smoldering in his chest. It made him angry that he couldn't tell his anger apart from his passion. Blake hated her in that moment and in equal parts adored her even still, missed Gwen much more than he cared to admit, and was eager to crawl inside of her as he’d done before many of time.

There was a wall, six years thick, built upon with mortar made from their mistakes, and strong enough to fortify the distance between them. He was stupid to think that she’d wait for him, angry at himself for putting that type of burden on her in the first place, and mortified that it didn't matter how unrealistic the wish was, he wanted her to-- _needed_ her to. 

Even as his breathing slowed, his blood rushed through his veins, heavy and thick. Blake blinked, but it felt slow and sluggish. His mouth flooded with saliva. “Congratulations.” The word felt like acid rolling off his tongue but he swallowed once more and ignored that particular sensory nerve altogether. “Well...I think I better get started on the decorations. I am here to help after all.”

Behati didn't give him a look of pity in which he was grateful for, just a burning gaze laced with sadness. Blake closed his eyes briefly, calling back the control over himself that he seemed to have forgotten since the news of Gwen’s unavailability. He did not look back at her as he stepped out of the kitchen. He felt a deep crawl beneath his skin and recognized it as a sign--a plea--from his mind to shoot up again. His body never asked to get high anymore, not after four years of keeping it clean, but his head remembered toxins and poisons better than his own immune system. Just as easily as the thought came to the forefront of his mind, Blake pushed it back. He recognized it for what it was. He wasn’t itching to use again, he was itching to love. Gwen and only a thin wall to separate them. Just like cocaine, Blake had gone years without his drug of choice. Now another man held her in his hands, tasted her on his tongue, consumed her in his system.

He scratched at the inside of his palm roughly.


	2. You taste so bitter and so sweet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title of this chapter is from the moving song A case of you, cover by James Wolpert, as are the lyrics to start the chapter. I recommend giving it a listen as this song was most of my inspiration for writing this chapter.

_"Love is touching souls" Surely you touched mine 'cause part of you pours out of me, in these lines from time to time._

 

Axel’s room was no longer garnished in ninja turtles and power rangers. He was older now, and that meant embellishing his walls with Star Wars posters and bedding. It was what mature eleven year old rooms looked like. Seeing past his hurt and resentment, Blake found a reason to smile. The small car mattress was replaced with a queen size bed and the toys were all gone, video game systems in their place. Blake looked around with fond nostalgia, remembering how many times Adam had snuck into his room when they were kids and the older boy found him with a game console in his hand. Blake ran a long finger over the entertainment center before reaching the boxed decorations in the corner of the room by the closet. He knelt down and picked through the contents carefully, not even the littlest bit surprised when he heard the door creak open. She wanted to check up on him, see how he was taking the news, maybe even try to pacify him. And instead of just putting Gwen’s own mind at ease, he stood up with the box in his hands and turned to face her. 

“You didn't stop me kissin’ you just now,” he assessed, eyes cutting down to those beautiful lips as a slick, pink tongue swiped over them. “If you hadn't seen Behati you would have never pushed me away.”

“You don't know that. And I was surprised, caught off guard. I…”

“You wanted me to.”

“Of course I wanted you to. I’m always going to want you. But--”

“You’re getting married.” He finished for her.

She stared at him woefully, but nodded. “It’s been six years. I never expected to see you again and when you showed up, suddenly there in the kitchen and tall and handsome and  _ clean _ . I--no one told me you were coming and when I asked Behati she told me that they forgot to tell me and I'm sorry that you had to find out that way. I never wanted--I didn't mean to hurt you.”

She had walked to him during her little speech and Blake couldn't help leaning down until they were face to face, allowing him to breathe in her lavender and honey scent.

“How long?”

He didn't need to clarify his question. He saw the hesitation in her eyes before she answered him.

“A little over a year.”

The thought of that guy being inside of her for more than year twisted his heart.

Blake reached out a hand to push a strand of blonde hair behind her ear, letting it go to hold the side of her face, instead. “Does he make you laugh?”

She leaned into his palm and nodded. He felt a heaviness pressed down against his limbs and bones. He rubbed his thumb across her cheek and Gwen’s eyes fluttered closed.

His hardening cock was a leaden reminder of just whom this woman was and what she’d once--still, apparently--meant to him.

“Did you even try to wait for me?” He whispered.

“Of course, I did.”

Blake closed his eyes then. “Don't lie to me.”

“I'm not.”

He squeezed his eyelids tighter. “You left me.”

To her credit, Gwen stood her ground, even as her arms came up to wind around his neck. “I know.” She stood there like a lamb to slaughter, yet there was nothing about her so innocuous as a young sheep. No, Gwen was a sacrifice he’d partaken in many times. A veritable feast for his gaping appetite; sweet and as addictive as his usual percent solution of cocaine. But not at all innocent, nor weak.

“Don’t marry him.” 

“Blake--”

“I'm here now. You don't have to marry him when I'm here.”

“Look around you,” Gwen gestured to the room, the bed, the filled walls. “Look where we are. We happened six years ago. I love him. I'm happy you’re better. I’m happy you’re family can see you after so long. But this is where my life is now. I said yes. I've made my bed and I’m prepared to lie in it.”

“Fine. Lie in it.” Blake angled his head towards the bed without breaking eye contact. He closed the distance and watched as Gwen stumbled back. She gained her footing with a muttered swear, before coming chest-to-chest with Blake. He could almost taste the spice of her frustration on her tongue, longed to run his own across her sharp jaw and grip the skin between his teeth.   
  
“What the hell, Blake?” 

He stepped forward again until Gwen’s knees were touching the side of the bed. “Lie in it. Lie in the bed that you should’ve made with me first. You said you’d never leave me and you  _ lied _ .”

Gwen rammed her hands against Blake’s chest, furious now, yet her eyes were dilated. “You would have never gotten better!”

“You don't know that!” He shouted, wanting nothing more than to reach out and claw and tear. Instead, his hands curled uselessly in the air. “You kissed my scars and told me I was someone to be proud of. You touched me and  _ listened  _ to what I had to say and you made me love you. And then you left me and I come back and you act like that didn't kill me, as if nothing ever happened..”   


He was disgusted with his own ramblings, but the words rushed out like water from a tap. Gwen’s expression shifted from vexation to disappointment, then shame and hurt.   
  
Blake wanted her to hurt like he did. Six years would do that to a person. 

“Then to stare at me like you do now, as if I'm--I’m some stranger, when I've had you--” He broke off, strangled by the strength of his indignation, that Gwen should be standing there, still so desirable after all she’d done. “I  _ know  _ every inch of you. Even after all this time, after you left. No word for years and you didn't even ask. You said so yourself.”   
  
“Blake,” Gwen beseeched. “You have no idea why--”

“I don't care!” He yelled. “I don't care, Gwen. Anything...I would have given you everything. All I asked was that you waited. Just wait for me. I would have made you happy because I knew I would have owed you my life. Don't you think I would have done that? If it was the job you needed, I would have moved. If it was a ring, if it was something more than what we had, I would have given you that. I would have asked you to marry me but you were set on believing that I was a broken mess that you couldn't even talk to! You made all the decisions for me and now I lost you to some guy that will never love you as half as I did. As much as I do.”

He felt sick with hate and stupid with love, and neither of the two balanced out well. His eyes burned with grief and the way Gwen looked at him. He ached to turn away but it was impossible. If he looked away, she might be back in the arms of Leo and he would be left bleeding out on his nephew’s bedroom floor. 

Gwen blinked twice, then squeezed her eyes shut. She opened them, reaching up to press her palms against his heaving chest. “It was nothing to--you did nothing wrong, Blake.” 

“Except everything.”

She gripped his shirt. “We weren't perfect, but you made me happy. I wasn’t meant to stay there, but I was going to anyways. I didn't--I didn't want to leave, Blake.”

He caught her wrists, encircling them with his large hands. He eased them off his chest, remembering the texture of her skin, the knobby protrusion of her pisiform, more pronounced than he recalled.   
  
He stared, a prisoner to her pleading gaze. “You should never have left,” he whispered, lifting a palm to lie against his lips.   
  
“Blake, I--if I'd had a choice, I would have chosen you, you know that--”   
  
It was too much to hope for, yet not good enough. Blake needed more than ‘if'. He needed more than some bullshit excuse about not having a choice when he made the difficult one to go through withdrawal and stay unsullied after. 

He didn't have to push, just a step forward and Gwen was willingly falling back on the bed and Blake with her.

“Blake--”

He knew the planes of Gwen’s body by rote, and years hadn't diminished the memory of what made his ex-lover gasp and writhe. As if out of habit, legs fell open for him and Blake settled between them, at home and finally in familiar terrain. Other men could have her, share her attributes, ask her hand in marriage, but none could inflame her like he did.

Gwen’s knees around his ribcage might as well have been vices. Blake couldn't breathe so he took back his oxygen from her lips. He thrust a hand between the mattress and her head, latched onto her fair strands and pulled until that mouth was gaping and slick. His hips rolled uncontrollably into Gwen’s. He was insatiate, compelled by love and other vicious sentiments he wanted nothing more than to spit vitriol at, because she wasn't his anymore.   
  
As if she read his thoughts and wanted to slick his open wound with more salt, her fingers clung to his shirt and wrenched him away. Her breath skittered across his cheek and inside his ear. “I know you’re hurting but we can't do this. Not anymore.” 

He pressed down and a breath of air puffed past Gwen’s lips. He ignored her and thrust again, just to catch that sweet sound in her mouth. He gasped along with Gwen until it hung in the moist air between their wet lips, thin and fragile.   
  
Again and again and again. Until Blake reached a steady pace and Gwen’s breath hitched with every jerk of his hips. Gwen’s dark eyes lowered to slits, and when she attempted to look away, to push him back, Blake caught her jaw with firm, gentle fingers.   
  
He lay the other palm on the mattress to hold himself up, then tilted his head down to capture those lips in a blistering embrace. They were rutting like inexperienced teenagers and Blake was beginning to chafe, but he wouldn't give up that moment for all the drugs in the world.   
  
Gwen was all that mattered, all that would ever matter. Her breath caressed his cheeks again as he pulled away, eager to watch the ecstasy transform her into something disturbingly beautiful. Nothing could compare to the reality of Gwen spread beneath him, panting and breathless. They were moving as one, Gwen pressing up to meet him and Blake stroking down as the momentum built. She had set him on fire, and heat pooled to the very bottom of his belly until his toes curled in his boots. Every bone in his body tensed, balanced on the precipice.   
  
Gwen’s hands clenched on his back, legs tightening around his ribs. The metal frame of the bed creaked and groaned under their combined weight. Nothing will ever be as sweet as the small cries that left Gwen’s lips. She was trying to be quiet and Blake suddenly remembered Behati downstairs. If the noise of the bed got too loud, Blake would take them to the ground and finish what he started, this time with less layers.   
  
He groaned, eyes half-lidded as his trapped cock slipped against Gwen’s own covered glans and pressed into the slit of his trousers. Blake nipped her chin, the corner of her mouth, licked across her lips and moaned when Gwen’s tongue kissed his. He’d miss the eroticism of being with her, the comfort they’d shared enough to do away with boundaries that hadn't included the patches of marred skin. But Gwen had taught him that inhibitions meant holding back, and Blake wanted all of it, everything that Gwen had to give, and Blake would happily lower himself to any means just to have her, even if it meant giving all of himself.   
  
He lay his damp forehead against hers, moving with less vigor, until they were undulating at an unhurried, sensual pace. He was so close. He despised the moment it was all over. He could feel his heart thumping irregularly, like fists punching away inside his chest.   
  
“Gwen,” Blake grunted, more or less a sob. “Gwen.” He slipped his thumb up the indentation of her chin to just under her swollen lip, exhaling tremulously as that tongue darted out to lick the tip of his nail. He snapped his eyes shut and forced away his impending climax, afraid to let the moment pass. But, of its own accord, his finger tipped over the soft flesh of Gwen’s mouth and onto the slick landscape of her tongue. Gwen closed her lips around it, held and caught his stare.

He squeezed his eyes shut as his orgasm rippled through him like an earthquake, rattling every bone in his body, every thought in his head. All he could feel was a mindless downward spiral, the long plunge into a depth-less crevasse. His shout echoed in the tiny room and beneath him, Gwen’s muscles locked and relaxed in powerful spasms.   
  
They still moved in unison, riding out the waves of their climax together.   
  
When the shudders faded, Blake stayed, shifting his weight to lie half on top of Gwen and half on the mattress. He waited, hand outstretched over her stomach, counting the intervals between breaths.   
  
He’d thought that seeing Gwen, that being intimate with her would make him feel whole again. Instead, the puzzle pieces still didn't quite fit right despite him having found all the pieces. It doesn’t matter how much her body still reacts to his, or what just transpired in his nephew’s bed. This little indiscretion won't change the fact that he was too late, and Gwen will still get married to someone other than him. 

Her soft hand came to disappear in his hair, tangling around his damp curls. She pressed a chaste kiss to his forehead.

“How can I make you happy without making myself miserable?" The words traveled out of his mouth so faintly that he wasn't even sure if he spoke them in the first place. 

He must have because Gwen’s hand tightened in his locks, pulling desperately.

“I don't forgive you,” he murmured then into her cheek. “I think…I think I hate you.”

Gwen stiffened and her breathing sped up, but he didn't care because she needed to know that he would always remember her abandonment, and that she would never be trusted again. He thinks it doesn't really matter in the first place. He will tell Gwen he hates her while Leo will tell her he loves her. He can only make Gwen come quietly with her clothes on while Leo makes her scream and writhe with them off. He can have history with Gwen while Leo has her whole future. He wants an answer to his question because he wants Gwen to have her happiness, just not at the expense of his own. 

His chest is weighted with sentiment he loathed to carry. Gwen should have been his, she should have waited.

He thinks he’ll always have Canada. Where they sought warmth and comfort within each other's arms. Now he stands on Leo’s grass, sweating and burning with the blaze of rejection and defeat.

_  
And once burned, one does not set out to repeat the same mistakes. _


	3. It's not that I don't care about the love you have.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title of this chapter is from the amazing song Roses, by Shawn Mendes, as are the lyrics to start the chapter. I recommend giving it a listen as this song was most of my inspiration for writing this chapter. The lyrics are perfect for this chapter.

_ When she's with him, she seems happier, and I don't want to take that away. _

 

_ “Happy birthday, Axel!”  _

His nephew blew out his candles with so much enthusiasm that the older man could feel it across the room. Adam smeared icing across his cheek and the audience clapped and laughed. Blake’s eyes traveled to Gwen, where she stood by the fireplace, video taping the whole affair. Leo stood behind her, a handsome smile directed at the birthday boy. His green eyes lit up every time Gwen smiled or laughed. Blake looked away before he could be caught staring and backed up even further into the hallway where he couldn't be seen.

“Excuse me,” Adam addressed the crowd. “I want to thank everyone for coming. Me and Behati are so happy that you all could make it. I know Axel asked for a lot of presents this time and I apologize for raising a brat.” Laughter erupted at Adam’s words and the father smiled. “His mom and I asked him what he wanted this year as well and he told us...he said he only wanted his Uncle Blake to be able to make it--to his birthday party.” Adam turned to look down at his son. “So Axel…”

The boy’s eyes widened in realization and he ran them across the room fervently. Blake’s heart hammered in his chest at being wanted by at least someone. When Adam first called him to tell him of his nephew’s wish, Blake knew it was time to come out of hiding and rejoin the real world, even if it was just for a month. He was clean and ready, anyways.

Blake stepped out from the hall, wringing his hands nervously. Behati thought it would be cute to wrap a bow around his chest to make it look like he was, in fact, a present. He remembered the look she gave him as she tied it, right after he cleaned the semen from his underwear and righted his clothes, leaving Gwen to whatever thoughts muddled around in her head. The look was one of chagrin and vexation. She heard and obviously didn't approve. Blake didn't let it bother him because he knew it wouldn't happen again. He wouldn't let it.

“Uncle Blake!” Axel ran toward him and picking him up was more than an effort than he remembered. He keeps forgetting it's been six years. He’s older now, weighs more, grew a few inches taller. He was a young man and Blake was angry with himself that he had missed it. “You came.”

Blake held him closer for a moment before setting him back on his feet. “Of course I did. Happy birthday buddy.”

“Thanks.” Axel gave him a cheesy grin.

“What are you doing here?”

Blake looked up at the soft voice and started. Dusty stood behind her brother, hands on her hips and Blake was momentarily taken back to the two of them in the shed, the story about Jennifer coming to mind.

“Dusty.”

“What are you doing here?” She demanded again.

“Dusty! Help me cut the cake,” Behati suddenly interjected. She gave him one last abrasive look before doing what she was told. The people around them started up conversations but a few saw the tense exchange.

“Don't mind her. She's literally so moody all the time, the mood swings make me want to punch myself.”

Blake chuckled at his nephew and patted him on the back. “That's how teenagers are...I think.”

Axel rolled his eyes. “I'm never having girls.”

“Of course, cause you’re never having sex.”

“Ew gross, Uncle Blake.”

The stupid smirk that he had once wore everyday was plastered on his face. “Good answer.”

The two were interrupted by Adam. His brother clutched a glass of clear liquid in one hand while the other held a beer. “Hey guys. Blake can I steal you for a second?”

“Depends on which drink in your hands you plan on givin’ me.”

“I heard water is good for the skin.”

Blake grinned and took the offered glass. “Give us a minute.” He told Axel. The boy smiled and nodded, walking back to the table for cake and ice cream.  

“Did you fuck Gwen in my son’s room?”

Blake choked on his drink and Adam patted his back apologetically. When he gained his breath back, he immediately looked up to search for Gwen.

And Blake has a bit of an identity crisis when he spots her, right there in the family room of his brother's home. He feels a bit lost and out of place. He hasn’t felt like this since he and Adam were young boys on vacation in Montana, sweat piling up and pulling pranks on each other because that’s what little boys did when they were trying to make it in a world that they never truly thought would accept them. They drank too much and sang too truthfully, full of nervous energy and all the determination in the world. He always dealt with insecurities, but fumbling over them wasn’t something he did.

Except tonight. Tonight Gwen’s eyes are glued to Leo’s, and Blake feels wrong. He feels too big for his body, hunched over and uncomfortable in his boots, a bright red bow still tied to his chest like a target that points straight to his heart. He’s aware of every movement Gwen makes, every smile she gives, and all of it is never directed at him. Not even once.

“Behati told you?” Blake asked instead of responding directly.

“She tells me everything.”

“Interestin’. Is that what you guys do now.”

“Don't be a dick.”

Blake takes another sip of the water to appease his scratchy throat.

“They set a date yet?”

Blake feels his brother’s sympathetic eyes on him, and he glances to the side to see Adam eyeing him intensely. “Let's go outside.” Adam motions towards the front porch with his beer and Blake follows him out. When he gets on the other side of the glass door it’s hot as hell, and Blake hates it with a passion.

“So I'm guessin’ they haven't by your lack of an answer?”

Adam leans his back against the railing, eyeing him up and down. “You can't sleep with her anymore.”

“I'm not.”

“So the noises Bee heard were just you two playing a nice round of video games.”

Blake rolled his eyes. “We kissed--fooled around a bit. That's all.”

“That's all?”

“Yes. For old times’ sake I guess.”

“Gwen doesn't cheat.”

“For fucks sake, Adam. We had a moment. It's gone now and it won't happen again.”

“You still love her.”

“It’ll pass.”

“It's been six years, Blake.”

“Six years of thinking that I still had a chance. I see things are different now.”

Adam took a long sip from his beer and lets the words he just spoke sink in for a few more moments, before he rolls his head back and closes his eyes. “She wants it as much as you do.”

“Adam--“

“No.” Adam opened his eyes to glare at him. “I'm your brother. I want what's best for you. Gwen is going to marry Leo and you are going to stay away from her.”

Blake raised an eyebrow. “Back to this now? You tellin’ me what I’m going to do like we’re kids?”

“As soon as you stop acting like one, I’ll stop treating you like one.”

“Save the dramatics for a song you’ll write later. I already told you that it was a one and done type of thing. I got caught up in her and the years but I know my place. I'm not you.”

The words weren't meant to sting but Adam flinched regardless.

Blake glances back inside the house through the window, Gwen exactly where he had left her, head thrown back in laughter, surrounded by a group of people he’s never met before. He looks back at Adam. “I want her to be happy.”

“You really love her, don't you?”

“More than she knows.”

Adam glares at him. “I don't want you to get hurt by this.”

_ Too late. _

Blake gives a small smirk. “I’ve been shot with a gun. Nothing hurts more than that.”

“You’re an asshole.” Adam laughs fondly.

The sound of the door sliding open and shut behind them makes them both turn around. Blake tenses at the sight of his ex’s fiance. Leo looks startled as well but quickly recovers, smiling as he does so.

“Sorry, I didn't know anybody was out here. Needed a smoke.” He said by way of explanation, grinning ruefully at them. “Adam, you want one?”

He shook his head, “Bee cut me off.”

Leo shook his head too, but he was grinning.

“I'm glad Gwen doesn't make me quit.”

The way he says her name sounds wrong to his ears and Blake downs his tasteless water to hide his disgusted expression.

“I'm sorry, I’m Leo. I work with Adam at the label. You’re Blake I presume.”

Blake lowered his glass. “Since birth.”

Adam coughs but Leo just smiles at him. “It's nice to finally meet you. I've heard a lot about you from Adam.”

_ Not Gwen. Gwen doesn't talk about me to you. _

“Good things I hope.”

“The very best.”

Blake gave Adam a look but the younger man avoided his gaze.

“Well, it was great to meet you too but I gotta refill my  _ water _ .” Blake says, tilting his head back and finishing his glass. “Don’t do anything too stupid while I’m gone.” He pointed a stern finger at his brother as he walked backwards to the front door. He slipped back inside just as a hand grabbed him by the arm all of a sudden and pulled him towards a back hallway.

Once everyone else was out of sight, Gwen shoved him against the wall. “What did you say to him?”

He was surprised by her forcefulness but even more so by her proximity.

“Adam? Just the usual. He's a jackass.”

“Blake...” Gwen’s eyes narrowed at him.

He chuckled softly. “I didn't say anythin’ that you need to worry about.”

“I don’t believe you,” she said, even as she stepped back.

“Funny how you think you can question  _ my  _ trust.”

“Don't--”

“He seems like a good guy.”

Gwen swallows.

“You’ve been watching him all night. Laughin', smilin'...” And he knows it’s the wrong thing to say the minute it’s out of his mouth, but he can’t stop it as Gwen pushes away from him. He needed her out of his space anyways, or he would break his promise to himself to never touch her like  _ that  _ again. But then Gwen turns around, and pushes Blake back up against the wall.

“You’re the jackass. I was alone for  _ years. _ You don’t get to do that. You don’t get to be jealous right now.”

Blake reaches a hand out to steady himself on Gwen’s hip. “Well I am. And I'm not gonna apologize to you or Adam, and especially not to Leo.”

“Why can't you just be normal for a second in your life and think about somebody other than yourself?”

He laughs sarcastically at her. “Oh you have no clue. I spent everyday thinking about  _ you.  _ Even when I was high out of my mind you were the only thing I couldn't forget. And believe me, Gwen, if I _could_ stop __ thinking about you; if I could erase you from my mind completely, I  _ would  _ be a normal person.”

“Blake…stop. Stop saying those things to me.”

“Why? Why should I do anythin’ you say? You left  _ me,  _ remember?”

“Because I want you when you do!” She whispered angrily. “I was heartbroken everyday I spent without you.”

“Gwen--” Blake shivers, it's what he’s been waiting to here come out her mouth since he arrived in California. He tightened his grip on Gwen’s hip. “You have no idea the effect you have on me, do you?” Gwen whimpers as she shakes her head and Blake grabs her wrist, pulling Gwen’s hand between his legs. Gwen’s eyes stretch wide when she feels Blake half-hard in his jeans. “That’s still from hours ago, when you were underneath me and didn't give a shit about saying yes to another man.”

“But I did!” She snatched her hand back and tried to walk away from him but he grabbed her arm tightly. “Bl--”

Suddenly she was the one pinned against the wall. His grip was like steel. “Don’t walk away from me like that.”

“I am not yours to do whatever you feel like,” she snapped, causing Blake to take a step back as if she’d slapped him. “You chose drugs over me and don't pretend like you didn't. You wanna blame me? Fine. But take a look in the mirror if you want to be angry at someone. You ruined us and then you expected me to stay and wait while you considered if I was worth it to get clean. You did this.”

“For you.” He spat. “Everything I did these past six years was for you. I thought that was what you wanted. I thought you wanted me unbroken. I was doing it for you.”

“I didn't want you to do it for me. I wanted you to do it for yourself.”

“I did.” He was still angry, but his voice had softened a bit.

“Only after I left. With me gone there was no one left  _ but  _ you. I tried my hardest to do right by you Blake and you still can't see that.” Gwen probably didn’t realize she had started crying until he reached up to wipe away her tears. She closed her eyes.

“Don’t cry,” Blake pulled her into his arms. She buried her face in the crook of his neck. “Don’t waste your tears on me,” he whispered in her ear. “I'm tryin’ to understand everything that happened but I can't focus with everyone around us all the time. Can we just go somewhere alone? I wanna talk.”

Gwen sniffled and choked out a weak laugh. “Talking always leads to touching with you.”

He smiled. “You’re the most amazing woman I’ve ever known. Can you blame me?”

Her laugh was stronger now. She moved back so that they were face to face again. “Blake, I--”

“Gwen? What are you doing?” It was Leo. The pair quickly separated and Gwen took advantage of the dark to wipe her eyes fully, hoping her fiance wouldn’t notice she’d been crying.

“Just catching up with Blake. This is Adam’s brother.”

Leo nodded. “Yeah we met outside briefly.”

“Good, great.” She went to Leo’s side and kissed his cheek. “We just finished our conversation actually. I’m going to check and see if Behati needs any help with anything. It was good seeing you, Blake.” She met her former lover’s gaze very briefly before tugging on her fiance's hand, the two of them disappearing around the corner and out of view.

There was a coping technique that Blake hadn't used in awhile. He hadn't needed to. It was one he’d adopted when he was on the battlefield. It made him believe that he was already dead but the bullet just hadn’t found him yet.

It finally did. 

Gwen was that bullet.


	4. Will you hurt for me?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title of this chapter is from the beautiful song Hurt for me, by SYML, as are the lyrics to start the chapter. I recommend giving it a listen as this song was most of my inspiration for writing this chapter. This chapter is in Gwen's point of view but the lyrics of the song are in Blake's.

_I can fake my heart and I love to watch it burn but it knows you ain't alone._

 

“You don't really  _ need _ to say goodbye, do you? He went to bed an hour ago. Adam just checked on him.”

There had been a lull in their conversation, Gwen’s thoughts elsewhere and Behati realizing where exactly they'd gone to. Gwen set her wine glass down on the living room table. The house had already been divested of any lingering trash from the party earlier, and Gwen only stayed to help Behati clean the kitchen. Once they were finished, the two women opened up a bottle of wine and sat down on the couch for a quick chat. It was only a way to past time as Leo and Adam filled out some paperwork for the label, but that was two hours ago and Gwen was starting to grow restless. Knowing there was a lot left unsaid between her and Blake, unsettled her, especially considering that the man was only a floor above her but still out of reach.

“I thought he was staying at a hotel.” Gwen mused.

Behati shrugged, “Axel wanted him to spend the night so he could play some video game with him. I texted Blake a little while ago and reminded him that it's a school night.”

“I’m surprised you let Axel stay up late at all.”

“I've never seen Axel happier so I can't complain too much.”

Gwen nodded, reaching for her glass again, thoughts returning back to her former lover. “I just--I feel like I left a lot of things unsaid when we talked earlier…”

Behati swallowed her sip. “I get that but do you honestly think it's a good idea with what’s already happened?” Behati asked, not unkindly.

“I made a mistake. I know that, he knows that but I owe him some sort of closure, don't I?”

Behati folded her legs tightly underneath her. “You left him, for a good reason, I know. He is who he is because of what you did. Because of what he made himself accomplish after the fact. So yes, I do think you need to give him closure, especially now that you’re getting married. But you don't  _ owe  _ him anything. Okay?”

“In many ways I do owe him. I wouldn't be with Leo if it wasn't for his decision to push me away.”

“And you are with Leo. Leo is the one who put a ring on your finger. He's not a drug addict, he’s not a soldier struggling with PTSD. He's a good man, who wants to make you a great woman. So why are you trying to mess that up? Blake is  _ fine. _ ”

“Blake is a good man.” Gwen snaps. Behati just stares at her calmly. “I’m sorry...It's just--it's like you’re harder on Blake ever since he got clean.”

The younger woman nods slowly. “I am. It's what me and Adam agreed to do. You haven't kept in touch so you wouldn’t know but...Blake has been clean for four years. It's the longest time he's ever been since he got hooked, Gwen. Before, Adam was lenient. He tried to be tough and love him to make up for it. Blake knows we love him--Adam more than anything--but showing him that if he relapses again...we won't be there. We  _ can't  _ be there. And that's why I don't want you going upstairs to say goodbye. He’s doing fine, even with the knowledge that you’re getting married. But if you draw him into something that he can't come back from, it’ll destroy him.”

“But if I don't tell him all the things that he needs to know...all the things he  _ has  _ to know before I say I do...it’ll destroy  _ me. _ ”

“You’re just gonna have to make that sacrifice. Your wedding, your kids, your life with Leo now, those are all things about you. Blake isn’t about you. He's not your responsibility or your priority.”

_ Not anymore.  _ Is what goes unsaid.

Gwen sets her glass back down and rises from the couch. Behati follows, tactless as ever in that moment and currently blocking the only exit out of the living room that would take her upstairs.

“You’re an adult, Gwen. I won't stop you but as your friend--your best friend--tell him what you need to and then let him move on.”

_ How can I make you happy without making myself miserable?  _ The words echoed around in her head and Gwen’s stomach churned at how the words had turned on her.

She smiles at Behati, to placate her more than anything. “I’m just gonna use the bathroom and see what's taking the guys so long.”

She can tell Behati didn't believe a word she’d just said but Gwen’s legs carried her far away from the disapproval and up the stairs she’d been longing to ascend. As infuriating as it was, Gwen found herself thinking of Blake with unsettling frequency. It was worse than before, when she didn’t know if she would ever see him again. Gwen did everything she could to put the memory of Blake to rest. She’d thought that the substitutes would be an adequate distraction, until they weren't, until she stumbled upon Leo Graves by chance, and he looked nothing like Blake. Strawberry blonde hair, beautiful green eyes and no scars or burns. It wasn't until Blake had resurrected himself not only in her memory but physically in her life that she remembered what he smelled like, cataloged his changes and experienced the touch of his body against hers again, everything intensified.

When she finally reached the guest bedroom, Gwen didn’t bother knocking. Behati said he had gone to sleep, and the noise would just alert her presence to Leo and Adam, who were down the hall in the younger man’s study. A quick press of her ear to the door confirmed the hum of air flowing through a fan; she could feel the gentle vibrations of it through the door. Inside, Blake’s bed springs creaked and groaned, grating and metallic as he shifted on the mattress. She closed the door soundly, the movement barely muffling a soft groan. Then another, until she drew closer to see his whole body shaking. The sheets were drenched in sweat and Gwen paled at the sight.

Nightmares. She didn't know he still had them. From the looks of it, they got worse. Something stabs at her chest.

The room was pitched in black save for the flickering light provided by the alarm clock on the bedside table. She wanted to call out his name but hearing the unsteady, ragged wheezing, stopped her. When her eyes fully adjusted to the darkness, she took another step forward and hit something soft but solid with her foot. The sound had Blake sitting upright in his bed, back rigid and face damp with a sheen of sweat as his chest heaved; eyes wild. At the end of his outstretched arm, he held a gun, cocked and steady, aimed squarely at her forehead. It brought back memories to the first time they were in this position. But Gwen was caught off guard. In Canada, Blake always carried his gun. Here, she didn't even know he had one.

The alarm clock light was dark blue, and merely served to highlight the gaunt dip of Blake’s cheeks and the smudgy hollows beneath his eyes. The milliseconds between illuminations made him appear ghostly and pale, flickering in and out of view, his arm lowered each time until the gun was on the table beside the bed and his head buried in his hands.

She wanted to go to him. Instead, she reached for the circle light switch above the table and pressed, bathing the room in a soft, murky light. Gwen turned to the sorry sight of her former lover on the bed. In proportion to the mattress, the room, his own shadow, Blake seemed unacceptably small. He’d always been a large man, but where before Blake’s presence in a room matched his tall and built frame, now it only diminished him. Beneath the thin, nearly transparent material of his white undershirt, Blake’s clavicles were sharp and pronounced against his white skin. He looked so healthy in real light, in layers of clothes, but here, he looked like a battered soldier. Gwen didn’t have to disrobe Blake to know what would be underneath; protruding ribs and a hollow stomach, just enough to match his eyes.

Gwen’s chest tugged uneasily. It bit at her that she’d been so blinded by emotions, that she hadn’t noticed all of the bad that still lingered around this man. He was clean, on his feet, and Gwen saw that he had truly fixed himself. She was almost jealous that it wasn't her who had done it. Seeing him in the kitchen, healthy and handsome as ever, Gwen almost wanted to break him again but seeing him now...there had never been much purpose in breaking things that were already broken. She was a paradox, trying to destroy something she so desperately needed fix to love. He was a paradox, deluding everyone around him into thinking that he had repaired his entire being when in reality, he only mended one part of himself. It was possible that she was dealing with a new Blake now. One that was irreversibly damaged.

Blake was staring at her cautiously from beneath furrowed brows, eyes still bleary from sleep, right cheek streaked with pillow lines and temptingly rumpled. Looking at him now, Gwen couldn’t dredge up more than the dull ache that resided in her chest constantly since he came into her life. It was like a disease there was no cure for, she couldn’t just make it go away, as much as she burned to most days.

Blake was the first to infringe upon their unspoken contract of silence. He rubbed a hand down his face, nose wrinkled as if he were pained. The perpetual downturn of Blake’s lips greeted her along with the hard rigid line of his jaw, tensed to the point where Gwen wondered if his teeth ached from the pressure.

“Gwen, you can’t...you can't come in here like that,” he murmured. When their eyes met, Blake’s were resigned, the expression exaggerated by the slump of his shoulders, the in drawn curve of his thoracic spine. “Not anymore. It’s...it’s not safe.”

“I'm sorry.” And she truly meant it, if she had known how bad his sleep patterns had got, she would have never put him in a position like that. “You were having a nightmare.”

He nodded.

“I didn't know--I thought that--they look like they got worse.”

This time, Blake’s steady gaze didn’t so much as flicker, though the corners of his eyes tightened the tiniest bit. “Cocaine helped with it.”

It was all he needed to say for Gwen to understand. And she never really did before, not until she saw the way he shook and sweated against the sheets. Cocaine helped with the nightmares, allowed him to sleep at night, allowed his body to function without fear of what it might do. Cocaine kept him sedated and at a peace. He gave it up for restless nights and the chance for his family to stick around. She felt guilty that she didn't have more compassion for him the first time around. He wasn’t the same man as he was before. Including when Adam welcomed him home from the war. He wasn't a naive boy, blinded by sentimentality. He was a man now, trained killer, had handled a gun many times, going by the state of his hands. In some ways, Blake was still that man, but his heart now felt emotions his mind couldn't quite process yet, his hands trembled just enough to show how much of a burdened it was to carry a weapon.

“Where’d you get the gun?” She asked, needing to know the answer for a reason she couldn't place.

“Adam has three,” Blake said, and raked his nails over his scalp. “He doesn't like having them but he owns and runs one of the biggest record labels as far as I'm concerned. He's got a family to protect and considerin’ I don't live right down the street, I told him I’d teach him how to shoot...as for the dreams...they make me feel crazy and I can't go to sleep without havin' a gun by me.”

Gwen watched him, eyes narrowed. “Wouldn’t it be safer not to have one,” she asked tentatively, holding Blake’s stare.

“It's what I need.” Is all he says.

Gwen nodded, her eyes flickering down to the bed, then back up, contrite. Blake must have understood her dilemma. “You can sit down. The sheets aren't exactly dry but…”

She does so immediately. 

“What are you doin’ in here, Gwen?” Blake finally asked her when she got settled, hands wringing nervously in her lap.

“You said you wanted to talk.”

“Not here..not anymore.”

“Why not?”

“Cause it's not a good idea.”

“Not even to end this? Get some closure?”

“I don't need closure. You’re getting married, starting a new life. I’m trying to keep my head above water and survive. That's all I really need to know.”

“Blake--”

“Stop.”

“I can't. I can't knowing that you’re here and that there's six years between us.”

“Well whose fault was that?”

“Stop putting the blame all on me. I'm trying to talk to you. I'm trying to know this Blake. The one I broke my heart to help make. I want to make this right with you, in whatever way I can. Just tell me where, Blake.”

“Somewhere far away. Where you’re not the Gwen gettin’ married and I'm not the Blake drownin’ in his own sweat and nightmares. But we’re both those people. And it's not like we can escape them anytime soon.”

“You can't help it.” Gwen murmured quietly, recovering from the sting of his words.

“Neither can you.”

It was the resignation in his voice that startled her. Like she honestly couldn't help getting married, like she had no other choice but to, the same way he succumbed to fitful nights of sleep.

“Tomorrow. We could go to the park. We can forget about the rest, and just walk around, talk, get some coffee.” She offered.

“And, what?” Blake spat, finally sitting up fully. Even sitting he was a whole two inches taller than her. “Next you invite me to your wedding? We remain good buddies? You can't honestly tell me that we’ll still be friends after all this. We never really were to begin with.”

The ensuing silence was louder than anything Gwen had ever heard and charged with static. So many unsaid things lingered in that moment. 

“We hardly left one another on good terms,” Gwen started, folding her hands into her lap. When Blake met her eyes, they were dark and red-rimmed. A striking finish to the pale, worn palette he presented. She cleared her throat, swallowed, and asked, “If you want to keep it that way, I’ll understand. But if you want more...do you want more, Blake?”

He probably isn't exactly sure what she’s asking and she doesn't even know herself but the words are real and Gwen finds herself needing him to say yes.

“Blake, I--you’ve got to understand that the last thing I ever wanted to do was hurt you,” Gwen said, voice thick with emotions. “After I left..I prayed for you more than I prayed for myself. I carried you in my heart--”

“Stop it,” Blake hissed. He stood on unsteady legs. “I’d have killed to hear you say those things six years ago, to know them when I had nothing left but the memory of you to keep with me during the nights where I’d drugged myself until I blacked out. Those words don’t mean anything to me now.”  

The sound of his knuckles popping snapped her attention down to his hands, where his fists were tightly clenched against his thighs, stance rigid and brittle as he fought himself. He dragged in a breath and slowly released it before turning his eyes on Gwen again. He truly did look unwell. A sheen of moisture overlay the surface of his dark eyes, like liquid wax over stained glass, and Gwen knew then that to resist Blake as he was would be so so detrimental to his health. “Do I still mean something to you?” She asked quietly.

Slowly, Blake advanced cautiously and lowered himself down beside Gwen who was staring strangely at him, as if they had never met. It felt like that here in his room. Gwen held his gaze and didn’t give him a chance to look away.

Blake seemed delicate, breakable, a house of cards ready to collapse at any moment. She was almost afraid to touch him, but she did. She raised a hand to Blake’s cheek, her heart plummeting at the first touch of stubble against her palm. He watched her, though his eyes were guarded, fingers fidgeting in the sheets as he regarded her with longing and a deep sadness that echoed in her own chest. 

She pulled him close, the tears in Blake’s eyes finally spilling over the cup of his lower lids as she brought him forward to rest his head on her shoulder. He didn’t wail or sob, but Gwen felt the entirety of his body tremble, the quiver of his breath wet on her neck. His hands held tightly to the back of her shit, before they slid up to grip her shoulders, shaking.

Gwen encircled him in her arms, her cheek resting upon the silken curls of Blake’s hair. “You still mean the world to me,” she whispered into Blake’s hair, one small hand moving up to brush through the soft strands at his nape. She felt him inhale, breathing in the salinity of her own sweat, the musky odor of the bed set, and the natural fragrance of the room. “Tomorrow, the park? Just us.”

Blake began to shake his head. “Gwen, I can’t--”

“Just one more time, Blake. One last time to talk,” Gwen tried again. 

Blake pulled back, and flicked his eyes up to meet Gwen’s, swirling blue pools, lovely and oscillating in the dimly lit room. Blake looked down for a moment, and when his eyes returned, Gwen was suddenly breathless. “Please?” She pleaded one last time.

Blake’s eyes fell to her lips, lingering for a second too long before they locked gazes again. “I missed you,” Blake breathed. Gwen swallowed, brows furrowed as she watched the words form on Blake’s lips and roll effortlessly off his tongue.  

“Blake--”

“I just wanted you to know.”

“And I  _ need _ you to know that you weren’t the only one who suffered, okay? You weren’t the only one. My chest hurt all the time, and it was like I--” She paused, swallowed, “like I couldn’t breathe.”

“And now,” Blake asked.

Gwen blinked down at her lap. “My chest still hurts, but for different reasons now, I think.”

Neither of them spoke for several minutes.

Then, “Me too,” was all he said as he dipped his head until Gwen met his eyes. He moved forward into her space, and like so many other times before, Blake captured her lips, gently persuading until she opened her mouth to him.

She let out a tiny sound against his lips and Blake reciprocated with one of his own, overwhelmed and helpless. There was no way she’d ever be finished with Blake. It was impossible, the thought, reprehensible. It wasn’t that she couldn’t stay away, she could, she would have to, she was getting married. But it was that Blake was uniquely essential to her everyday living, to her breathing. 

She whimpered and Blake slowly lowered them to the bed. He settled over her, and took the oxygen from her lungs.

She pulled away before he could take all of it.

_ She needed to save some for Leo. _


	5. You'll learn to hate me, but still call me baby.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title of this chapter is from the exquisite song Never, by Robert Pattinson, as are the lyrics to start the chapter. I recommend giving it a listen as this song was most of my inspiration for writing this chapter.

_I should never think, what's in your heart, what's in our home, so I won't._

 

Blake snorted himself awake just before seven, head and shoulders jerking up off the pillow in a low-grade startle. The filtered sunlight of the hour just after dawn made itself known around the edges of the window shade, bursting forth in wide slashes where in the dark there had been only a narrow, glowing outline. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d still been asleep at eight. A quick glance at the alarm clock, and a quick calculation in his head: he’d gotten just under three hours after Gwen said her goodbyes, and then after he finally fell asleep four hours later, positive the worst of his dreams were over. 

It had been another restless night. Turning over the pillows, trying each in turn, searching for the one that didn't smell like his fear and sweat, supported his neck, and didn’t blast the sound of his own rushing blood into his ears. Digging in the curve of his head as he lay on his back, or slipping his forearm under it if he was on his side.

The sheets and blanket were next, given his preference he never liked to feel weighed down but always covered up as much as he could, whether it be the ambient temperature or the ugly marks burned and seared into the back of his retinas. So, yes, the covers had to be pulled up high but never touching his throat. Nothing shiny polyester with satin edging. Nothing that smelled of bleach. Nothing that could further hinder him from sleep.

Even still, none of those things seemed to make much of a difference. It allowed him to relax briefly, but never succumb to the darkness. He tried everything, sleep-inducing pharmaceuticals, hypnosis, counting, chanting, lying with his head at the wrong end of the bed. He’d tried music and white noise and nature sounds. He’d tried sitting upright in a straight-backed chair until his head was nodding forward and his eyes ached to close, shifting to the bed only when his body threatened to tip onto the floor. He settled on the white noise, a fan most times, but a TV worked as well. Nothing ever worked better than his white powder. And since he had decided to give it up, he subjected himself to a life full of nightmares and a slowly deteriorating mind. But he was clean. That was all that mattered.

His phone buzzed a notification and he reached a tired hand from where it lay on the nightstand.

[unknown]:  _ Still on for 10? – gx _

Blake smiled, wondering how in the hell she managed to get his number. They never exchanged them in Canada and she never asked for his last night.

_ Are you askin, or remindin me? -B _

[unknown]:  _ Bit of both. I'm scared u will change ur mind. –gx _

_ I’ve actually lost my mind. So when you find it let me know so I can change it. -B _

[unknown]:  _ Blake… -gx _

_ I’ll be there. -B _

* * *

Gwen swallowed hard as Blake finally released her from their hug. She looked away, toward the gravel-covered ground, and then gestured toward the path from which Blake had just emerged not a second ago. “Walk?” 

Blake’s smile was disarming, boyish and eager, bordering on goofy; Gwen found herself utterly charmed by it.

“Yeah,” he agreed, and bobbed his head.

Blake fell into step beside her as she started at a deliberate, wandering pace and in moments they had put the busy crowd near the park’s entrance behind them, out of sight as well as earshot.

“I don't exactly know what to say to you.” Blake broke the deafening silence.

“You never really did.” She replied.

“That's not true.” Blake hurried to dismiss it. “I mean it  _ was.  _ I didn't know what to say until suddenly I did. And then I told you everythin’.”

“Not everything.”

“No. But it's not like you spilled your guts to me either. Just...other things.”

Gwen glanced sideways at Blake. She shared her body with him more than her memories, or her past. She gave bodily fluids easily, confessions, accounts, not so much. The taste of his salty and sweet saliva still lingers on her tongue from last night, it ways heavily more than the new revelation does. Recognizing the forethought sunk into this meeting, Gwen’s infidelity rattled noisily in her chest and she glanced away again, shifting her gaze to the path a few yards in front of them.

“Can I confess?” She asked.

“Anything.”

“I worry I’m just a stepping stone in your life and the thought actually kills me and that's not fair to you because I'm the one about to make one of the biggest decisions of mine.” 

Blake stepped in front of her suddenly, stopping them both, and tilted her face up, looking hard at her eyes, one to the other, back and forth.

“You are a steppin’ stone,” Blake said, quiet but firm. “I’m glad you are. Cause right now I'm stuck on you, and when it's time for me to move on...I will. I  _ can.  _ I’m glad you’re. . .” He gestured, then let his fingertips brush down her neck. “Just you. This. This that you are.” He grinned as if apologizing for his inarticulateness. “You’re beautiful.”

Gwen felt her chest flush warm.

“Far out of my league,” Blake added. “I constantly think of how in the holy hell I’m goin’ to manage to keep you--“

Gwen’s gut twinged. “--interested.”

“Are you saying you want to be my friend?” She asked.

Blake squinted and tilted his head. “You hurt me. But you also helped me. And since I'm gonna be here for a little while...I don't want to hate you while I am.”

She said nothing as they began to walk again. Once they rounded the turn to discover a wooden bench tucked in among the dwarf trees with their bent-over branches brushing the ground, they both sat. Gwen noticed that it wasn't with her usual grace and winced at the stab of pain that jolted her insides. Blake had noticed.

“You okay?”

“Just my back.”

There was a pause, and Gwen laid her hand on top of Blake’s, tucking her fingers around and down until they touched his palm. Blake’s thumb went still and he let himself be held.

“What happened?” 

“I don't know. I think I just pulled something when I got up this morning.”

“That doesn't seem like you just ‘pulled’ something.”

Gwen felt sick for a moment, imagining Blake had somehow seen through the layers of her clothes to the mottled-violet evidence of her inability to guard herself from harm.

It was a breezy euphemism that wouldn’t raise an eyebrow. Everyone had bad backs. Pain in the back could be anything--a pinched nerve, a pulled muscle, a weak spine, irritated disc. Gwen let her head drop to the side as she shrugged. “I’m getting old.” Gwen noticed the shadows under his eyes and found a nice place to change the subject. “How did you sleep?” She asked, and fixed her gaze on their hands folded together on her lap.

She was wearing her engagement ring. It hadn’t even occurred to her, as she dressed so carefully for a walk in a park with a man not her fiance, that she should take it off. She gave Blake’s hand a quick squeeze then withdrew, gesturing up the path as if to ask whether Blake would like to continue their walk.

“About as well as I ever do,” Blake replied, and they stood and started to stroll again, side by side, the crunching of their soles against the gravel, or an occasional bird’s song, the only sounds. Gwen was aware of his repeated sideways glances and felt strangely studied, exposed, but not vulnerable.

“Hey,” Blake said, as they reached the footbridge, and he sighed out a quick breath.

Gwen stopped walking, and turned toward him, closing space between them so decisively that Blake took a half-step backward before regaining his footing at the very edge of the path beside a wide curtain of weeping willow branches, the leaves just beginning to turn gold. Gwen tipped her chin up to meet Blake’s eyes. His face was so open, easy to read. She looked over the soft indentations beside his lips; there was a tiny, red-edged razor nick low on his cheek, close to his ear lobe, and Gwen reached to soothe it with the tip of her index finger. His eyes warmed and sparked, and he smiled as her fingertip did just that across his skin.

Blake stepped forward, reaching around Gwen’s waist, and the parted branches brushed against their shoulders as they stepped in behind the drape of withering, shivering leaves. If it had been near silent in the garden, it was almost completely so beneath the bent, trailing branches of the ancient tree. The ground beneath their feet was more earth than vegetation, though not muddy.

“I don't think I told you how gorgeous you were when I had you,” Blake finished with an self-conscious smile. His grip tightened in the shirt at her back and he reached for her wrist, cradled the gangly hand in his palm and raised it a bit, staring hard at its back. “I don't have you.” His eyes flicked to the center of her chest, then up to her face once more. “I wish we’d had more time,” he said quietly, plainly.

“Is our time up?” Gwen whispered.

“Will you give me more?” Blake turned her hand palm-up and raised it to his face, brushed dry lips near the crease of her wrist.

“I.” Gwen’s voice hitched on a breath at the top of her throat, and promptly died on her tongue. Her mouth was infuriatingly dry; she thrust the tip of her tongue out between her lips to ready them. Blake stared and Gwen’s heart pumped a wild beat behind her sternum.

“I’m gonna kiss you now,” Blake breathed.

Gwen shook her head, firmly, no, but Blake didn't listen, just leaned down and did exactly what he said he would do.

Gwen clutched at Blake as if to keep from falling, and perhaps that really was the reason for her fingers digging gently into Blake’s right shoulder, his left bicep, given the height difference and the way Blake leaned forward into her, setting Gwen slightly off balance. Blake held her steady by her waist, worried her closed lips with his own. She had only kissed one man for the last year and more, but this felt like coming home. Her knees felt strangely loose; she held Blake as much to keep herself upright as she did to steady Blake himself.

Gwen hummed as Blake’s tongue dipped out as if to moisten his own lips, not at all aggressive, though Gwen let her mouth open regardless of his intention. Blake’s hands moved from her waist to wrap around her shoulder and back, one drifting up to the back of her neck, applying gentle upward pressure to the base of Gwen’s skull. Gwen marveled at how a hand at the back of her neck could feel so like an invitation, so unlike the usual demand. A knot of flaming urgency flared in her gut and began to grow.

Gwen leaned back, breath urgent, neck and cheeks flushing hot. Blake looked much the same, closing his lips tightly. Their hands still clutched at each other’s clothes, muscles shifting beneath each other’s fingers.

Gwen kissed him again.

His mouth was as pliant as his gaze, though his body was straining tautly downward. Gwen felt a wave of something fierce roll up through her, starting in her stomach, nearly shaking her heart loose from its moorings, up the back of her spine to overfill her head. Something akin to dread. She took a step backward, and their hands fell away from each other. Blake’s features turned downward slightly, throwing new shadows on his cheeks and jaw.

“Gwen?”

“No,” she huffed out immediately, and shook her head. “No, it’s...I’m.” Her body and its endless betrayals. She felt helpless, then, and longed to run.

Blake slipped his hands into the pockets of his jeans and looked at the ground, then gathered himself as if he might leave. Gwen exhaled sharply through her nose.

“No,” Blake said, as if Gwen had said anything at all. “I understand.” He squared his shoulders. “I never should have--I know better.”

“It’s not what you think,” Gwen said evenly. “It’s really not.”

Blake nodded, tight-lipped.

“This is...” Gwen started. “This is all I can offer.” Gwen ventured to move closer, eased Blake’s shirt collar aside with the pinky-edge of her hand and laid her palm in the hollow of his neck, fingers wrapping around the scar. “You want more but there’s only this,” she clarified. “It’s not enough--”

“It’s what I want.”

“Not it's not.”

“No. But it's all you’re offerin’.”

The earnest, bright-eyed gaze caught her off guard--made her sad.

Gwen closed her eyes and dipped her chin. Blake leaned down and in and pressed his lips, the tip of his nose, against the side of her throat. Gwen lifted her head, baring her throat, and Blake nuzzled and nipped, their fingers reaching and brushing and finding each other, tangling together down at their sides. A cool, soft rush as Blake inhaled against her neck.

“Blake...I’m sorry. I have to go.”

He made a frustrated sound but leaned away. “Where do you have to be? We haven't even got that coffee.”

“It's not coffee I want right now,” Gwen admitted and backed away fully. She made for the little pathway again, silently thanking Blake for following her out of their little world.

“Gwen,” Blake said abruptly, just before they rounded the final turn and were spit back out into the real world, “I know I shouldn't. And I know you got your own thing goin’, so I won’t make demands about things like this in the future--but just this once I’m gonna say it, and get it out of my system.”

Gwen’s eyes widened.

“Miss whatever appointments you got, wreck your day, forget the label and the mess we made of things, forget your life and everything that goes with it--“ Blake pointedly did not say,  _ forget Leo, _ but the implication roared between the lines. “Come home with me and let me spend hours gettin’ your smell onto my skin.”

Her breath left her in a soft but audible puff through barely-parted lips. The intensity of Blake’s stare was addicting.

“ _ Please _ .”

There was a moment where neither of them spoke. Gwen teetered on the ledge, peering over, ready to drop, and just as she was about to lean into the free fall, she thought..

_ Dear heart, _

__                                why him? _ _


	6. I got my own monster.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title of this chapter is from the amazing song Monster vs. Angel, by WDL, as are the lyrics to start the chapter. I recommend giving it a listen as this song was most of my inspiration for writing this chapter.

_ I would never call him enemy, he's the bad god I need. _

 

Blake sits in the soft, pale yellow glow of his hotel’s antique bedside lamp. He leans back against the headboard of the bed, idly writing lyrics in a notebook with a charcoal pencil. The words are exquisitely rendered, and Blake stares off at something unseen with grim intensity in his eyes after he's written all that he needs to. 

There was a knock at the door. Blake looked to it quickly and closed the notebook, putting it away in the top drawer of the bedside table.

Slowly, Gwen opens the bedroom door. A plate of chocolate covered strawberries is held in one hand while the other is busy toying with something around her neck. She stands in the doorway awkwardly, as if suddenly unsure if she’s making the right decision despite making it so far. “Um. They brought the strawberries up,” she mutters.

She doesn’t say anything else, or make any attempt to walk further in the room.

Instead of a vocal response, Blake reached over to the other side of the bed. He untucked the duvet and pulled the sheets back. An invitation.

Gwen’s shoulders visibly sag with relief over the fact that she won’t have to stumble blindly in the dark anymore with him. With the whisper of fine sheets moving across one another, she slides under the covers on the unoccupied side of Blake’s bed.

“They look good.” He says.

“They are. I had one.” She sets the plate down on the other side, but not before plucking one of the chocolate fruits and bringing it over to his mouth. He accepts it graciously, his lips even linger around the beautifully painted nails.

“My dad used to buy these all the time for my mom when we were younger. My brother and I always fought over who got to steal one out the box when they went to bed. I tell people I love them but for some reason they never buy me any. Maybe they just forget.” Gwen sounded curious but when her eyes traveled to his, and saw how every word she said went noticed and filed for a later time, they were suddenly delighted.

Blake dropped his gaze to stare at the skin bared by the wide, plunging neckline of the robe and undershirt and longed to press his face against the shadowy edge of a pectoral muscle, inhale forever, then taste. One gilded fingertip of hers slipped beneath the metal around her neck, then dipped and swept and pulled out the chain with the first two fingers. His eyes caught every movement. Gwen continued to turn it over and over with one fingertip.

“I took it to a shop and had it cleaned. The guy told me it was a beautiful mineral in the circle of the flower,” she said. “It still looks so new, even before you gave it to me. Is it really so old?”

Blake grinned. “My mom’s dad gave it to her. I thought it would match your eyes.” He waited a half-beat, then whispered, “It does.”

“I don't know who I'm going to pass it down to. Who would want it?”

Blake shrugged. She hastily continued. “I mean, it's not that anyone would turn it down, like I said it's beautiful. But who’s going to understand it's worth? What it means?”

“I don't think it really means anythin’.” He watched the long fingers stroking and turning the shiny charm. “I think it's just somethin’ my granddad thought would look nice on my mom. I thought the same for you. It’s just a pretty necklace that I can't do anythin’ with...the older I get, the more I’m beginning to recognize in myself a certain liking for things that are beautiful and useless.”

“Like me.”

Gwen’s murmur was razor-edged and stuck Blake in the base of the throat.

“That’s not at all what I meant. Why would you say somethin’ like that?” He asks, frowning with concern.

“No reason,” Gwen replies. “...My mom used to collect china when we were little, and I thought it was the stupidest thing ever. They were beautiful don't get me wrong, but we were never allowed to touch them or use them for like a special dinner. It just sat in this cabinet, collecting dust if my mom wasn't so keen on keeping up with it every week. It's pretty to look at but it doesn't  _ do  _ anything. What's its purpose? I just think it's a waste of money.” 

“It's never a waste to acquire beauty.”

“No, but to never use it...is.”

“Maybe we don't use the things that are beautiful because we don't want to break them, or scratch them. They weren't meant to be handled that way.”

“What if they are broken or scratched? You’re telling me that makes them any less pretty?”

“Of course not, Gwen. I'm just sayin’--”

“I think scratches and cracks mean they were apart of a life. They have memories living in them. I think  _ that’s  _ beautiful.”

“Well, sometimes livin’ can be ugly.”

Gwen hummed thoughtfully, then said, “Some people say that breaking beautiful things just makes them more gorgeous..”

“Who ever said that was trying to justify their own awful behavior and the damage they caused. It's cowardly. Who said that to you?”

“Forget it.”

“I don't know if I should be offended that you open up to me only to pull away again, you know, after all we’ve been through,” Blake said.

“But you're not. You’re not offended.”

“No. But I am gettin’ kind of mad.”

“Why? You hardly opened up to me when we first met.”

“Could you blame me? I didn’t exactly have a good past to go off of.”

“I don't blame you. But things have changed since then, Blake. For the most part, your past doesn't trouble you anymore. Your insecurities are somewhere else now."

"And where are your insecurities?"

Gwen looked away. "Not in my past.”

“Then right now. Who’s makin’ you insecure?”

“Why do you think it's a specific person? Can't I just be insecure because the whole world is?”

“You can.”

“Okay then.”

“Alright.”

Blake moves over to Gwen until she gets the hint to lay down. They lay as close as they can get to chest-to-chest without going cross-eyed.

“You seem very defensive today.” Blake whispered.

He reaches around, slowly running his thumb up and down Gwen’s spine. He feels the tension slowly start to drain out of her muscles.

“I'm sorry.”

He shakes his head, “Don't apologize. Just tell me what's wrong. If you didn't want to come with me...you could have said no.”

“That's not--that isn't it.”

“Then what is?”

“Nothing. I just don't want to talk about it anymore.”

“Beautiful things? Insecurities? Or the past?”

“All of them. It doesn't make a difference to bring them up.”

“How come?”

“Just forget it, Blake.”

“No, tell me.”

She sighed. “Beauty is almost always overlooked if it's not staring you in the face. Insecurities go unnoticed until someone figures out they can use them against you, and you’re not supposed to breathe life into the past or you’ll stop your present. It's how it's always been and how it’s always going to be.”

“There’s got to be exceptions.”

“Sometimes people come along and search around in your chest for that beauty, or see your insecurities as something to love instead of something to exploit. And if you’re really lucky, that person won't just breathe life into your future and feel for your past but they’ll breathe life into your whole being and make you forget what losing your breath even felt like in the first place. But that's rare. It almost never happens. And one day you realize that it will never happen to you.”

“How do you get over something like that?”

“You don’t,” Gwen said. “You become someone else. Someone who can deal with it. Or you don’t.”

He moves closer and places a gentle kiss to her forehead, and let's his lips linger. “Sounds painful.”

“It is. Especially because it never leaves.”

Somewhere, in the back of his mind, buried underneath truths he knows but cannot say, he thinks someone broke her. While he was busy fixing himself, she was busy letting the world tear her down. She’s letting him know this in so many words if not any at all and it's beautiful in a way, giving voice to the unmentionable, seeing his fixer unfixed.

“I can't make pain go away, Gwen...But I can make it to where it doesn't matter.”

A quiet sound escapes from Gwen’s throat and Blake smiles against her forehead. They lay there in the quiet for so long that time begins to blur, and the sun begins to set. Blake focuses on stroking Gwen’s back soothingly. He starts drifting off, making his movements slower and heavier. But he still very much feels Gwen’s eyes on him. And it would be so easy. He could just grab her wrists, pin her, and take. Given the soft fingers gliding over the skin and hair on his chest, the advance wouldn’t be unwelcome, either. But he didn't want to take anything, not anymore. Not drugs, not sex, not retribution. He didn’t want to take her away from her life, despite what they all thought. Rather, he wanted to implement himself in it so indefinite that she had no choice but to stay, tethered to the bed she made and the hearts she’s leashed.

“Are you happy?” She whispers suddenly into the air, and the breath hits him like a bullet to the shoulder, or a knife to a neck. Both scars on him throb.

“What do we talk about when we talk about happiness?” He asked.

“Happiness is what happens when you go to bed on the hottest night of the summer.”

“I live in Canada.”

“And it's a night so hot that you can't even wear a shirt to bed.” She continued, ignoring him. Blake grinned. “And you decide to try and sleep on top of the sheets instead of underneath them.”

“I can't sleep without a blanket.”

“I said try, Blake. Now shut up.”

He placed a finger to his lips and settled down again, content with the feeling of nails scratching lightly over his chest.

“But then at some point, really late, like super late at night, before the sun rises, and the heat finally breaks and the night turns cool...and you wake up, feeling kind of cold. You're still groggy, but in that half-consciousness, you reach over and pull the sheet around you and just that thin, flimsy sheet makes it warm enough to drift back into that deep sleep.”

“That's what makes you happy?”

Her hand leaves his chest to wrap around his neck, and the solid, warm weight soothes him. “It’s that reaching, that gesture, that reflex we have to pull what's warm--whether it's something or someone--towards us. It's that feeling we get when we do, that feeling of being safe in the world and ready for sleep. That’s happiness.”

Blake closed his eyes, feeling the jagged words at the edge of his teeth and at the tip of his tongue. “Happiness to me...is a moment...before you need more happiness.” He opened his eyes.

Gwen rubbed at the back of his neck harder than before, and his heart beat a little faster.

“You use honesty like a weapon.” She said.

“I prefer the truth. No more lies.”

“They scare me sometimes.”

“My honesty?”

“Your truths.”

“Is there a difference?” He asked.

“Yes. Being honest doesn't exactly mean you’re being truthful.”

“How come?”

Her hand travels to his hair and disappears.

“I have a friend. Her husband….he abuses her.” She swallowed. “And he tells her that it's her fault when it happens. She makes him angry, makes him lose control. And he’s being honest, with her and with himself. Because she does make him angry, make him lose control or else he wouldn’t do what he does. He’s being honest because what he says and what he does are things he knows or what he believes them to be. But the truth...It's not her fault that he gets angry. It's not her responsibility for making him lose control. The truth is about facts. It's about being right. He can be honest, but he’s not right.”

“Why doesn't she fight for her truth?”

“Because they’re painful. And they repeat over and over again because she only has so many of them….because he uses them like he uses her insecurities.”

A few thick seconds past, before Blake could say anything. “You should help her leave him.” 

“I don't think she can.”

He didn't have the heart to tell her that everyone can. He was living proof of that. Instead, he nodded and closed his eyes once again. He drifts off with the smell of her around him and the feather light touches pressing down into him. He strokes her back just the same until his mind stops.

After what feels like hours, Gwen squirms, placing her hand on his shoulder and pushing gently. As soon as Blake is on his back, Gwen moves her leg over and pushes herself up to straddle his hips.

Blake blinks several times, squinting, confused, awoken by something unexpected. “Gwen?” There’s an extra huskiness to his voice and his natural accent thickens like it always does after sleep. He feels Gwen’s thighs clench slightly against his hip bones in response.

“What are you doing?”

“What do you think?” Gwen whispers.

“What I think is that this is the sort of thing you know exactly not to do. Especially given your circumstances,” Blake says.

“I know people who have done this. Mainly, your brother.”

“I’m not Adam. And you’re not that kind of person.”

“I've had a lot of stressful nights over the past years, it's hard to remember a good one,” Gwen says. Quietly, she adds, “I’d really like at least one I can.”

And that confuses him even more. Gwen leans down to kiss away the hint of uncertainty in Blake’s expression.

“Please,” she whispers. “I want this. In some way, I--I think I need it.”

“What about Leo,” Blake asks, running his calloused fingers and palms up Gwen’s thighs. “What about--does this mean--”

“I love him. I'm going to marry him.”

Gwen leans down again to suck at his bottom lip and Blake’s hands squeeze her thighs roughly. “You love him?”

Her lips move against his as he feels her nod her head. He draws her back with a hand in her hair, pulling the strands hard enough to produce a gasp from her throat.

“After this no more.” He says. Gwen tries to lean down again but his hand tightens, effectively stopping her. “Never again.”

“Never. He’ll be my husband, I can't after that.”

Gwen bent to kiss him again, and this time Blake allowed her. She ripped her mouth away to kiss down his neck and Blake allowed that to.

“Women who love their husbands still find reasons to cheat on them.” He spoke to the ceiling.

Gwen drew back from his body almost immediately, and Blake returned his gaze to her. He saw the question in her eyes.

“It's a truth. And it lives in honesty. Which one do you want me to turn my back on tonight?”

“You’re mad.” She stated.

He missed the signs, the build-up, so caught up in, well, the fight for what his heart wanted and what his mind believed it wanted that he was taken completely by surprise by the long warm body that pinned him firmly now and comprehensively to the bed. He was mad. Because he was trying to do the right thing, the  _ honest  _ thing, and what he got was more weight to shoulder, more to press against his ribcage and snap. He pushed back automatically, struggling against the hands and the body that tried to restrain him, but it was futile when her mouth landed on his neck, over his scar. The hips and legs refused to budge. And the weight shifted pressing him even further into the mattress.

He stared up, his chest heaving with his efforts and memories of another weight and another time, as those pale brown eyes looked back at him, holding him in place as surely as the mouth and body.

“Take me, Blake,” he heard, felt, saw. “Fight me if you want, but take me. Take what you want.”

He let the words float over them, let them settle and sink in. He didn't want to  _ take  _ anymore. He just wanted to be, but even as he said the words so silently in his mind, he surged upwards, and pressed his lips against Gwen’s.

With a relieved groan, she practically crashed down on him like a wave in a rush to press their lips more firmly together. The kiss was desperate and insistent, soon leaving her lips swollen and sensitive. He nipped at Gwen’s lower lip as he allowed his hands to wander over her body. They trailed up and under her robe and shirt. Blunt fingernails lightly brushing against warm skin, and Gwen heaved a long, heavy breath of contentment.

The kiss ends with Gwen rising back up to sit straddled over Blake’s hips, grinding down as she pulls the robe completely off, leaving her in nothing but a black tank top and underwear. Blake gave a quiet growl of interest, bucking up slightly with Gwen's movements. He reaches up to take the top off but Gwen guides his hands to her hips, placing one on each side. He wants to protest, wants to see all of her but doesn't push the matter as he slowly begins to ease down her underwear. She hums quietly, shifting her position to help expedite the process.

With the offending fabric off, Gwen begins unbuttoning Blake’s light blue shirt. It doesn't take long considering half of the buttons were already undone and once the shirt is open, Gwen shifts her weight to her knees and leans forward for another kiss. Blake’s hips are free from her weight, and he takes the hint. Soon, he’s completely naked. Not worrying about his marks and burns. He thinks of her tank top and wants to laugh. Oh how their situations have reversed.

The kiss ends and they gasp for breath. “I don't have anythin’ to make this more comfortable for you.” Blake says huskily.

Gwen shakes her head slightly, Blake can see the flush on her cheeks go darker. “No, I...I was thinking about this for hours while we laid there. So, I’m...I should be...” She sighs in frustration and moves her lips to Blake’s ear. “Feel.”

Blake complies and slides his hand lower and lower down her clothed back. She arches with his touch, making pleased little sounds in the back of her throat. The little noises turn into a sharp gasp as Blake’s fingers press against wet, sensitive flesh.

Blake curses as he slowly pushes his index and middle fingers in, kneading and stretching methodically as Gwen moans. They moved together for several minutes, rubbing up against each other while Blake prepared Gwen. They broke apart from another bruising kiss, and Gwen leaned back to kneel over his hips once again. “Ready,” she pants. “I’m ready.”

“You’re beautiful,” he says on impulse, reaching up to cradle her jaw.

Gwen’s trembling hand wrapped around the base of his erection, holding it in place as she eased herself down onto the shaft. Her breath hitched at the pleasant burn of her muscles as they stretched to accommodate it. She moved her hand away and with one final movement, they were fully joined together.

It's been six years. Blake shudders.

He admires Gwen as she adjusts to the feel of him being inside her again. Her eyes are closed and her head is tilted back slightly, her mouth parted just enough for her to pant shallowly. As always, the sight of Gwen taken over by pleasure is truly stunning to behold.

Gwen begins to move. She is breathtakingly slow at first, pulling herself up off of Blake by only an inch or two before bringing herself down fully once more. He's not sure which one is doing the taking tonight. It doesn’t take long for her to find a rhythm which has her moaning with every movement. Blake follows Gwen’s lead, thrusting up in time with the pattern and responding to Gwen’s sounds with short, husky words of encouragement. Given how Gwen clenches tightly and shudders at the sound of his words, Blake tells himself it’s something to file for later. He then berates himself at the implication. There won't be a later.

In contrast to their earlier heated kisses, Gwen keeps their pace slow and deliberate. Her moves are precise and purposeful instead of wild and desperate. As they move together, Blake’s hands continue to wander over her body. A caress against the thigh, a massage against the small of the back, a kneading of the buttocks.

As soon as Blake’s hands move and begin to rub tenderly against Gwen’s covered belly, he realizes what this is. Gwen confirmed it as her hands darted up to cover his own. Her fingers tightened over his and she let out a shuddering gasp.

And that is when Blake understood why Gwen’s pace was so laborious. You make a child by making love.

_ Is that what she’s taking from me now? What do I take in return? _

It was a way for a primal part of Gwen’s brain to insist, this love is yours the way she would a child. Fruit of love, not of another man’s seed. But another man had been here before him, another after him. But right now, he’s the only one in the garden.

He can play along.

Gwen arches her back, keening as she climaxes.

Blake follows suit, awash in the thrill of truthful deceit.


	7. Who am I to be that other guy?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title of this chapter is from the beautiful song The Other Guy, by Jesse McCartney, as are the lyrics to start the chapter. I recommend giving it a listen as this song was most of my inspiration for writing this chapter.

_This could be our home girl, a special place, something much more than your great escape._

 

Gwen wakes with Blake’s arms locked firmly around her chest, face buried between her shoulder blades. One of Blake’s legs is slung over her hip. She’s pleasantly surprised when she’s not struck with the immediate urge to flee. She should feel suffocated, trapped, like so many times before. She thinks this must be how Blake feels or felt. His PTSD seemed to be doing much better. They both had a hard time being held. But right now, she only feels the warmth of absolute safety coiling around her.   
  
She feels other things as well, including the growing heat of arousal stirring in her stomach, Blake’s erection obscenely brushing against her ass through the very thin sheet separating them, dipping low between the tight space of their bodies.    
  
“Blake,” she whispers, turning her body until Blake loosens his grip, repeating his name again as she rolls onto her back.   
  
“Mm?” Is all she gets in response, Blake nuzzling into her cheek and slinging a heavy arm over her chest.

“Are you awake?”

“Yes,” Blake mumbles into her neck, voice thick with sleep.   
  
Adorable is the first word that passes through Gwen’s mind. Not something normally associated with a coke addict an a soldier, but Gwen figures one does not necessarily negate the other. Just as all of his wickedness and diligence does not negate the fact that he is soft and so very warm as she runs her fingers across the smooth expanse of his shoulder.   
  
“You said,” Gwen speaks into Blake’s hair. “You said never again...”   
  
With that Blake stirs, lifting his head to meet her gaze in the semi-dark, the first hints of sunrise streaking across the curtains. 

“You agreed.”

“What if I didn't mean it?”

“Are you still gettin’ married?” Blake asks, face so close to Gwen’s their lips nearly touch as he speaks. When she didn't say anything, he nodded. “Then you meant it.”

Her head swims, her own confused emotions as well as Blake’s hanging heavy in the air, and for a moment she’s uncertain whose heartbeat she hears drumming in her ears. Blake’s. Her own. Both thumping simultaneously. The two of them intersecting, all the details of Gwen Stefani blurring around the edges.   
  
“Put your hands on me,” is what comes out when she finally allows herself to speak. “I mean that.”

He shakes his head violently. “No. I said no more. I'm not gonna be the other guy, Gwen.”

“You’re not.”

“Then what am I? Let's finally do this and get it out in the open.”

“I love you,” Gwen says and she can't remember if she's ever said it out loud, in person, staring him right in the eyes.

Blake gives her a curious look, his expression unchanging as if no words have fallen from her lips at all.   
  
“I just want you to know that. I want to get that out in the open,” Gwen says, the silence between them growing claws, real enough to bruise.   
  
Anger meets desperation with a clink. Blake carefully removes his limbs from her, sitting up, and slowly moves away from her. 

“Did I say something wrong? Is that not what you wanted to hear?” 

“Love is so simple but very complicated with you,” Blake says, finally, turning back around to face her. 

“Are you saying you don’t love me?”

“You know I do. I just can't allow myself to be  _ in love  _ with you.”  

“You were at one point.” 

“And you are now. Just not with me.”   
  
Gwen goes silent then, the quiet enveloping them in an embrace, the tension in his body speaking volumes, etching regret down into his bones. When she can't think of anything to say, Blake does it for her. 

“Do we talk about it now, or do we dance around it until it kills us both?”   
  
“I don’t know what you want me to say.”

“That you tried,” Blake says calmly. “That you think about me now. That you think about us.”

“Blake--”

“No one is going to blame you if you change your mind, Gwen. It’s okay to say no to him and yes to me. What are you afraid of?”

“I don’t know.” Gwen stares down at the bed sheets. “I’m afraid of making a mistake.”

“I'm not a mistake. Leave him," he said, voice harsh and oddly strained. "Don’t get married to Leo. Stay with me. Be with me."

“I--I can't--”

“You can see yourself now. You can see yourself with me.”

“Yes.”

“When I look at you, I see myself, Gwen. There are no distinguishable boundaries between us anymore.” Blake shifts uncomfortably on the edge of the bed, exhaustion dragging him down, heavy on his limbs. “I don't want to live my life without you. And I want you to say the same for me.”   
  
Blake just stares at her then, the weight of his words pressing into the lines around her eyes as he touches her softly, fingers splaying out on her thigh, then squeezing firmly before he rises to his feet.   
  
“I know you probably have to go. I’ll order some breakfast before you leave.” Blake turns to leave her, but Gwen catches his wrist.   
  
“Stay.” One simple word is all that she can manage, but Blake doesn’t put up a fight, so she stays quiet.

* * *

Blake looked down at the straight razor on the bathroom counter. It gleamed at him. Gwen stood in the doorway watching his reflection in the mirror. Breakfast had come and gone in silence, and Blake avoided her eyes throughout the entirety of it. She was unsure how to proceed further, what to say or what to do. 

"You gonna stand there and watch," he asked, wetting a towel in the sink. 

"Leo called. I told him I was staying at my brother’s...he wants me to come home."   
  
"Of course he does," Blake said, mostly under his breath. “Are you leaving?” 

She nodded. “After I'm done.”

“With what?”

She walked further into the bathroom and picked up the razor.

“Do you even know how to shave with that?” Blake asked.

“My daddy taught me. He says it comes out better when another person does it.”

“You wanna shave me?”

Gwen rolled her eyes. “It sounds like you don't want me to.”

“I just think it's a little too intimate is all.”

The sound of the word intimate in Blake’s mouth made Gwen feel warmer than the hotel’s central heating could account for. She watched their reflections in the black granite mirror, amorphous, bleeding into one another. 

“I promise I won't cut you.” Gwen smiles at him.

"I don't want the stubble too low."

“I know how you like it.”

“Be careful okay?” 

"I don't shave any other way." She laid a solemn hand over her heart, and Blake had to smile.

"Okay. How--where do you want me?"   
  
She grinned and he rolled his eyes. "Just lean back against the counter so I can reach your face.” Blake nodded before he turned on the hot water tap, wet the towel until it steamed, and then turned back around to slouch against the marble.   
  
"Am I ever gonna meet your kids?"   
  
"If you want. Here, hold this to your face."   
  
Blake did and winced at the temperature. “Have they met Leo?”

"Of course. You need a haircut too. I know a guy, he does my hair. His name’s Danilo. If you want I can call him, I'm sure he’d love to meet you.”

“Meet me?”

“He likes tall, handsome men.” She winked.  

Blake stifled a laugh. “Thanks but I don't like to pay for haircuts. I'd rather do it myself.”

“I can do it for you. And aren't you lucky that I’m willing to do it for free." There were two mirrors on either side of the wall, one behind Gwen and the other behind Blake, and she caught his gaze between the two, suppressed humor in his eyes.

Blake listened to the hiss and scrape as she passed the blade over it.

"Have you done this for Leo?"

"Why do you keep bringing him up?” 

“Because I wanna know how deep this is.”

“We’re engaged. I’d say it's pretty deep.” Gwen said. She whipped up foam in a small brass cup. “And when I did this for him, we were friends at the time.”

“This doesn't seem like the kind of thing friends do for each other."

"Are you asking if I think of you as more than a friend?"   
  
Blake looked away, but Gwen pressed two fingers under his chin and brought him back to center. The foam went on in a few smooth sweeps of the brush and tickled his nose.

“I know I'm more than a friend."

“Okay then.”

“Fine.”

She sighed and continued lathering the foam. The minutes passed before a thought struck Gwen. “How’s Miranda?”

Blake’s eyes flicked up to her’s but Gwen kept her concentration on her movements.

“She's good. She's actually married.”

“Seriously? I thought she'd wait for you.” Blake said nothing. “You know, she was pretty hung up on you. I thought about how happy she'd be when I left...she had a chance again. It almost made me sick to think about it. You guys together...”

“Are you askin’ me if we did get together?”

Gwen’s hands paused, shook a little bit before they righted themselves and she went back to work.

"None of my business," she said.   
  
"I guess that's a matter of opinion."   
  
"I don't want to be rude."   
  
Blake gave her a faint smile as she picked up the razor. "I think you would very much like to be rude right now. Should I give you an excuse?"   
  
"An excuse?"   
  
Blake placed his hands on her waist to move her to stand in front of him and moved one knee until his legs were spread enough to accommodate her. The inside of Blake’s thighs pressed against her hips. Gwen swallowed.   
  
"I wanna know if the sex with your future husband is actually good and if it is I wanna know how I can make our’s better. I wanna know all the jokes that he makes and then I wanna tell you far better ones. I wanna know if he sings you to sleep at night when you can't and if he doesn't I wanna show you that I will. Your personal life with him is none of my business, and yet I think you would be far happier without him. I was just rude to you, and now it's your turn."   
  
Gwen had no time to process his words before she spoke a few of her own. "Fine. Did Miranda remain your friend after I left?"   
  
"No. We were lovers."   
  
Gwen tried to keep a straight face, tried to keep her breathing normal. She curled one hand around the side of his neck, and two fingers tangled in the back of his hair. She touched the blade to Blake’s skin. It slid over his jaw and cheek, barely there, a whisper of contact. Blake glanced sideways to see the result in the mirror. The patch of bare skin looked unreasonably naked where she started to line him up, shaving the unnecessary lines of hair.   
  
"Guess wanting to hear it and actually hearing it aren't the same thing." Even to her, her voice sounded strained.   
  
"Does knowing I slept with her change your opinion of me?"

"You?” Gwen laughed sarcastically. “All those times you reassured me that you didn't want her.."

Gwen tugged lightly at his hair, and Blake tipped his head back to bare his throat. Metal glided up his neck, only a few degrees cooler than his skin. 

“She was there. I wanted you, Gwen, but she was there.”

"That supposed to make me feel better?” 

“I don't care if you’re hurt by it. I'm sure it was the same for you. You wanted me but Leo was there. Am I right?” Blake waited for another stroke as he asked. Gwen waited for another stroke, up over his jaw and the dip under his lower lip, before she dared to breathe again.

"I didn't plan any of this.” She said.

"Neither did I.”  

The razor's edge cleaned his upper lip in a few deft strokes. Gwen rubbed her thumb over the short hairs, and felt Blake’s breath come short.

Gwen tipped his face toward the light, eyes intent on the sweep of the blade. "I feel like the odds are always in my favor. You’re always angry with me.” 

“Not angry, just irritated.”

“I’m trying to make this better. I’m trying to put us on more equal footing."

"By holding a knife to my throat?"   
  
"By giving you something--sharing something with you that I only ever shared with my dad."

"And Leo?"

"Leo’s regular barber was booked and we were all supposed to go to a launch party. I offered because I knew how and we barely talked the entire time.” Gwen slid the blade up the side of his neck and paused, just under his jaw. Her fingers were tight in Blake’s hair. She tugged harder, and Blake bent his head back, arched toward her, breath quick and shallow as Gwen pressed her entire body against him. “I didn't touch him like this either. He was nothing to me then.” 

“But he's something now. That's where you fail to realize that you could give me things you never gave him to make me feel important but you can't convince me that  _ he  _ isn't still to you. You could leave me right now, you could forgive yourself for marrying Leo and asking me to be the better man and the best friend. But on the off chance that you aren't broken enough to see me, to see that I've loved you for years, it’s a little more difficult to pretend like you’re not being selfish. Holding two hearts in one hand and hoping one of them doesn’t fall.”

“Blake--”

“It's fine, Gwen.”

“Clearly it isn't. Do you feel like that? That I'm taking advantage of you?"

"Are you?"   
  
"I didn't spend the night with you to...take."   
  
"So, sudden change of plans?"   
  
Gwen let out a faint breath of laughter. "Do you honestly feel like you’ve been the only one giving?"   
  
“I mean when you fuck a taken woman Gwen it always feels like you’re the only one giving. I've got no one to go back to. You take what you need and want from me and then you go back home to Leo. That's how this works.” 

She finished the last stroke and wiped a streak of foam from the corner of Blake’s mouth with her thumb. She kept it there, hand cradling his jaw, while she rinsed the razor and laid it aside. “That's not how I want us to work.” She said quietly.

"Then maybe you should leave him.” 

Gwen finally released Blake, and watched as he reached for the towel, wiping away the last of the foam. 

"You want a decision right now?" She asked. 

"I've always been as honest with you as I could. I think you’re extraordinary. And I want to spend the rest of my life with extraordinary. You don't have to give me an answer right now but I need one as soon as possible, Gwen.” 

She reached for a black glass bottle at the end of the counter and tugged the towel out of his grasp. She didn't utter a word as she shook a few drops of liquid from the bottle onto one hand. She rubbed her palms together. When she smoothed them over Blake’s face and neck, Blake closed his eyes and leaned into the touch.

"I need time to tell him." Her voice was a low murmur, close to his ear. "I can't just pack a bag and leave without explaining to him why."   
  
The heat of his body pressed closer, inches from touching. He kept his eyes shut. "If you’re saying yes only to tell me this was some kind of joke or dream--"   
  
She shushed him softly. Loving that he was right there, so close, his breath on her skin. She dragged her cheek along Blake’s, smooth skin against faint stubble. Lips on his jaw and then up, and she fitted their mouths together, breath and warmth and infinite care. She spread her hand out over his cheek, thumb at the corner of his mouth, fingers curled under his jaw, and felt him swallow.   
  
Gwen pressed in, made the contact between them firmer. She caught Blake’s lower lip briefly between hers. Blake took a tiny, sharp breath, and then his hands were on her ass, squeezing hard, pulling her the last inch closer.   
  
Their bodies pressed tight together. Blake’s teeth caught briefly at her lip. She opened her mouth, and his tongue slid against hers. The wet sounds they made and the slide of her jeans against the slide of his cotton pajama pants echoed off the tile, the only noise in the small room.   
  
Gwen could feel the hard line of Blake’s cock, the spread of his hands, fingertips digging in, pulling her closer. Gwen held onto his upper arms and ground against him. They gasped into each other's mouths, and Blake slid his hands under her ass and picked her up off the ground.   
  
She clutched at his shoulders and wrapped her legs around his waist. Blake was still kissing her, hard, slippery, consuming presses of his mouth. He held her up without any apparent effort.   
  
"What…" Gwen said. She didn't get any further. Blake mouthed along the underside of her jaw, and the bared skin felt like it'd grown new nerve endings. The slow glide of Blake’s tongue there made her grind her hips forward helplessly.   
  
"Bedroom.” His voice was a little rough, but otherwise he sounded perfectly in control. Gwen wanted to see him lose it. 

She slid down to the floor and backed him up against the wall. "I want you here.” She said, and knelt, slowly, dragging her hands down over Blake’s chest and stomach to settle on his thighs.

"You'd be more comfortable on the bed," Blake murmured, but his hand was already in her hair.

"I like it better looking up at you.” His fingers wound tighter in her hair. His eyes were half closed as he tugged her closer. Gwen grinned. 

She pushed her face between Blake’s legs and mouthed at the shape of his cock. The cotton went dark under her mouth and tongue, but Blake didn't stop her, didn't say a word as she sucked at him through the cloth and pulled at his waistband. She eased his pants and underwear down. His cock stood out, rigid, curved, uncut, big. She was already leaning in, tongue curling over the head to taste him.   
  
"Gwen--" A sharp breath. "--fuck." Gwen looked up at him through her lashes. Blake put a hand over his eyes and dropped his head back against the wall. "Gwen."   
  
"Hmm?" She licked it, base to tip, ran her lips over the shaft. Everything smelled like sex to her now, and she loved the smooth warmth of Blake’s skin, kissed his inner thighs and mouthed at his balls.   
  
When Gwen glanced up again, she found Blake watching her with silent intensity. She dropped her gaze again and wrapped her lips around the head of his cock.   
  
It had been years, and it felt so good to have him again like this. She moaned as she took him in, inch by inch, lips tight, tongue curved hard against the underside. The head hit the back of her throat, and she kept going, wanting Blake to lose control.   
  
She leaned back and pulled off with a wet pop, looking up to meet Blake’s eyes. "You can let go now. I can take it."   
  
Blake slid his thumb over her slick lower lip. He didn't answer, just took his cock in hand and held it steady as he tugged her forward by her hair. It wasn't until he was in all the way, Gwen’s lips stretched wide around the base, that he spoke, and even then it was too low to catch. He drew his hips back and rocked forward, slowly, and Gwen tipped her head to give him a straight line to her throat. She breathed hard through her nose. 

She loved the feel of it pushing into her mouth, soft but unyielding, opening her up. Leo never did this for her, never took and gave so effortlessly like Blake did. She loved the taste, but most of all, she loved the sensation of connection, that alive feeling she so desperately clinged to.

It was better with Blake, with his large hands framing her face, stroking blonde hair back from her forehead, making this gentle and easy for her even when he pushed in deep and held there while Gwen swallowed convulsively around him. His strokes grew shorter and faster. Gwen sucked at him hard, cheeks hollowed out. She felt a tremor in his fingers as they touched her there, as he traced the movement of his own cock through her skin.   
  
"Look at me," Blake said. "Gwen,  _ please _ ."   
  
He sounded wrecked, and when she opened her eyes to stare up at him, he didn't look much better. Cheeks flushed, hair falling in his face, driving himself forward into her mouth. He was beautiful. 

"Close," Blake said, and started to pull back. Gwen followed, leaning forward until Blake had nowhere to go, and then he was pulling at her hair and coming down her throat, shaking all the while.   
  
As Blake pulled out, Gwen closed her eyes. She touched herself through her jeans, knowing she couldn't do much about her own arousal at the moment. But the light touches on her face were new, and her rhythm faltered as she felt Blake join her on the floor, felt his hand over hers. 

"Let me," he said, and Gwen did. She let go, let Blake kiss her, open-mouthed and searching after his own taste in a way that made her pant. He reached his hand down into her pants, pushing her underwear out of the way to thrust three fingers inside of her. He bit and sucked her lower lip at the same time which only made her thrust harder against his hand. She was close, straining toward release, relishing in the roughness in which he took her with just his hand and when Blake broke the kiss to duck down and lick and bite across the pulse point in her neck, that was it.   
  
Gwen stared, transfixed, at the speck of green in Blake’s eyes. She's never saw it before until it now. He pulled her in for another kiss before she could tell him about it, slower this time, lingering. He tugged her closer, one knee between hers. Gwen would've been happy to stay there and ignore the tangled mess of their clothing for much longer than the five seconds they got before Blake’s pocket started beeping.

He closed his eyes briefly before grabbing it out of his pocket. "It's Adam.” 

Gwen looked at him, with his pants around his knees and a little come on his lip, his mouth swollen from kisses. 

"Why don't I pick out some clothes for you," Gwen says. She stood and righted her jeans. "Just a shirt and a pair of jeans right?” 

"Yeah, yes. Thank you. I'll be out in a minute."   
  
She nodded and left the bathroom. She set a pair of dark wash jeans and a dark blue button up on the bed. She washed her hands in the little kitchen they provided and splashed her face with cool water. She opened up a bottle of apple juice and drank a few sips. Her knees ached, but it was a good kind of pain. 

There were footsteps behind her. She turned. Blake had changed into the clothes she picked out. It made her smile.   
  
"Are you okay," he asked. "I mean--your throat--”

“Blake I'm good.”

“Okay. Um, thank you. For that."

She smirked. "You’re welcome."

He nodded. Gwen walked closer to him and wrapped her arms around his waist. "You know this isn't going to go well if you leave all the conversation to me, right?"   
  
Blake looked down at her. "Will you stay tonight?" He asked.   
  
"I can't, you know that. I want to," she said, immediately, surprised by the warmth that spread out in her chest, like the glow of an internal candle. "I'd like that. But I gotta go back home.”   
  
"I’m your home," Blake said, tone more sure. 

Her heart fluttered at his words. “You are. You really are. But I have two homes. The one you come from and the one you’ll spend the rest of your life in. I gotta go pack the other one before I get comfortable where am I at.” She grinned at him.

Blake smiled back, slow and fond. He nodded with shadows and warmth painted on his face, and the love reflected in his eyes. Gwen could still taste him, despite the juice, and wanted to taste him again. 

“Buy me a house.” She said suddenly. “Somewhere we can live. Where we'll never be apart.”

Blake looks at her for several minutes but then takes her in slow and deep, the sweetest, tightest embrace Gwen has ever known. The combination of passion and such gentleness makes Gwen’s chest ache.

It would be easier to have someone else in control of her breathing, of her blood, and there was no one better qualified.


	8. The lights come up, the music dies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title of this chapter is from the beautiful song Dancing on my Own, by Calum Scott, as are the lyrics to start the chapter. I recommend giving it a listen as this song was most of my inspiration for writing this chapter. Especially listen to it during the dance scene, to experience the scene fully.

_But you don't see me standing here._

 

Leo’s leg was on top of her’s. His arm was across her chest. His lips and nose were touching her shoulder. Gwen had lost track of the time; past midnight, surely. The only light in the room came faintly from behind the mostly-closed door to the bath, far on the other side of the bedroom. Gwen’s lips, dry and sore and split where they’d been crushed between fist and teeth, were turned down hard at the corners. She could feel the shape of her mouth as she covered it with her trembling hand. Tears streamed continuously from her eyes, down her temples and into the swirling architecture of her ears. She blinked hard, and fat drops oozed between her lashes. The fingers clamping against her cheek were shivering as if from the cold. She inhaled long and deep through a nose partially clogged, willing herself to settle.

Leo inhaled loudly and Gwen jumped. She tried not to shudder as a sob broke out of her, making her chest and belly spasm. She tried to shush herself so harshly that she ended up making louder noises in the process. When Leo shifted, she clamped the hand even tighter around her mouth. There were his limbs draped over her more heavily now and a silver kitchen knife under his pillow. It was an unspoken promise to slit her throat if Gwen tried to spend another night without him again. She knew better. A night given to Blake was a night taken away from Leo and she couldn't afford to take anything away from him.

She was too tender to touch, nearly everywhere. Leo made her sleep naked, had kicked and kicked at her knees and ankles, and hours later they still cried agony; when she gently trailed two fingertips over a kneecap, it felt wrong, and at that her gut threatened to rebel, so she didn’t touch it again.

The darkness was smothering her, her chest sinking under the weight of it. She couldn’t even be sure Leo was really asleep; he might only be lying, waiting for Gwen to make a move, a mistake, to give Leo a reason to continue his punishment.

She’d wait for morning. She wouldn't run, but instead crawl apologetically, hoping Leo would forgive her, bandage her wounds, and kiss them softly like he always does. She doesn't think about Blake, about the house she asked for and the one he would so readily provide.

Leo let out a complaining sigh and Gwen bit down on her knuckle to keep from crying.

 

* * *

 

 

Gwen tried to avoid the tender spots on her scalp where Leo had torn strands of hair from it, dragging her across the kitchen floor, red-faced, shouting himself hoarse.

She affixed an extravagantly flowered headband to her now flat ironed pastel blonde hair. Now and then, tears threatened to well up. Normally they never would but Leo had blackened her eye and split her lip, and even through all the heavy makeup Gwen was certain it still somehow showed, so she tilted her head back, blinking fast to drain the tears away before they streaked down her face. She adjusted the sunflower necklace gently, fingers rubbing over it too long for her liking, and brushed the split and swollen edge of her lacquered lip.

Leo sat on the bed, texting from his phone. The knuckles of his left hand were bruised. The right, ruptured flesh. She’s surprised he didn't fracture a knuckle or two.

Her exposed skin was now covered by designer clothes and fine cloth, the legs and arms—bruised, bitten, scratched. She’d be careful moving and sitting down today. Of course, there would be no way to sit—not gracefully—because of the knees; they were already swollen and purple when she got up this morning.

She would not smile, even if she wanted to, because nearly every movement of the lips opened the wounds, flooding her mouth with the taste of stale copper and sea salt.

Staring at the stranger in the mirror, Gwen fixed a gaze at the base of her throat, shaking hands pulling the turtleneck down covering plum-colored fingerprints. It was one of few untouched places left on her trembling body. Leo had done more damage this time but he was being nice all the same. He could have made injuries that she would not be able to cover up with a slide of a brush or the protection of a garment.

“You look beautiful,” Leo said, so much passion behind his words. She smiled, softly. He meant it. “I love you, sweetheart.” He went back to his phone.

Less than two hours before, Leo had kissed her cheeks to rouse her from semi-consciousness, holding a tray of breakfast in his injured hands. “You’ve got work in a couple of hours. Let's eat here together and then I’ll draw you a bath.”

Just hours before, he had spent the night spitting on her, shouting at her, stomping on her feet, screaming for her to get up. But this morning he cooked for her, ran her a bath and left her alone. He kissed her gently, touched her softly, got down on his knees and apologized over and over again.

“What are you doing?”  
  
Leo’s sharp voice woke Gwen from the mirror-induced reverie. She’d just slid off her ring and set it in the white dish.   
  
“I always--” Gwen murmured. “It gets clean every Sunday. Lizzy picks it up and takes it to the jeweler’s.”   
  
“Skip the cleaning for today. I want you to wear it. It looks so good on you, why wouldn't you want to wear it?”

“I want to. You know I do.” Gwen struggled to soothe him, keeping her voice low. “I just like to take care of it because I know it cost you a lot.” Gwen’s hands twisted each other tightly, wringing in her lap.

“You know what,” Leo started, and in a single motion he was up and off of the bed, leaning across the vanity to snatch up the ring. “How about you stay home today. I’ll cook us dinner, put on some movies. Tell Lizzy to clean this next week and let's have a day for ourselves. Sound good?”

Gwen nearly shrank back, but suddenly remembered that Leo was being nice. He wanted to spend time with her. _She_ was the one who didn't come home the night before last. _She_ was the one cheating. Leo had a right to be upset with her, even if he didn't know about the latter.

Gwen nodded and stood up slowly, grimacing at the pain that flooded through her body like a tsunami. Leo gripped her softly around the waist and pulled her in for a kiss. He held her so tightly, Gwen felt the bones crunching and breaking silently.

 

* * *

 

 

_Three weeks later_

 

Blake never wore a suit, but his blazer and vest was nearly the same midnight blue as her dress, his tie an intricate tangle of dark blue and forest black. It was Adam’s, she remembered the younger man wearing it at a board meeting. The white of Blake’s shirt complimented the embroidery on her waistline, wrapping around her dress elegantly. They could've looked like they'd dressed to match, but Gwen erased the thought from her mind as soon as it came to fruition. She was supposed to match with Leo, in his all black attire. He looked handsome, the perfect gentlemen. She smiled as he kissed her cheek and told her to wait as he conversed with the valet.

Her eyes strayed back to Blake but found him gone.

“I didn't get you flowers.”

She jumped as the voice murmured in her ear. She turned around to find Blake, looking amused.

“Not following the script, I see." She smiled and teased.

"I'm not too sure how the script goes when it comes to our....situation. I might need some coaching if we get beyond the basics."

"Are you referring to dating etiquette or sex?"

Blake tilts his head. “Both?”

“Mhm. Not that I'm not extremely happy to see you but what are you doing here?”

“Behati is freakin’ out over this pregnancy. She's been throwin’ up and having mood swings and since Adam has to go play host, she felt better if I came along and made sure she was good. You know, mainly to make sure there was someone to hold her hair back while she emptied her stomach into one of these gold toilets.”

Gwen rolled her eyes. “They’re not gold.”

“You sure? Feels like gold on my ass.”

“How do you know what gold feels like on your butt?”

“I've had some wild times back in my day.”

Gwen couldn't stop the laugh that erupted from her throat. When she stopped, Blake was looking at her fondly, a small smile etched on his face.

“I missed you. Three weeks is a long time.”

Her own smile disappeared. “I’ve been really busy, with work and--”

“Leo.” Blake said softly.

“Blake--”

“I'm sorry. That was out of line.”

“Do we have to talk about this right now?”

“Not if you’re gonna lie.”

“What makes you think I was lying?”

"Silence is deadly, Gwen. Didn't think you were serious about the house, but the things you said...and all the things you didn't...just thought you might be lying to me."

“And you think you’re right?”

“Hardly ever, wrong. But I tend to bring stuff like this onto myself.”

“And why do you that?”

“Hope. Easy to convince yourself of almost anything if you want it bad enough.”

“I still want you, Blake.”

He shrugged one shoulder and smiled a little, eyes on the building traffic flow around them, the party inside filling up. “And what are you gonna do about that?”

“I told you I need time.” She paused. “Things are complicated.”

“No shit.”

Gwen glanced over him, just for a moment. Leo was on his way over again, his usual confident self, but the air around him seemed to waver in a dangerous way that Gwen had come to associate with the wavering of her own mind. Gwen swallowed.

“I have to go now. I'm pretty sure we’re sitting at the same table. I’ll see you in there.” She smiled at him, conveying with her eyes what she couldn't convey aloud. The only thing she saw in his was resignation. It made her stomach churn.

 

* * *

 

 

"The toilets aren't gold but pretty damn close to it.”

She snuck a glance around the room, mainly behind Blake as he slid in the chair next to her. When she didn't find what she was looking for, she allowed herself to relax, hiding a smile behind her glass.

“My script might be out of date, but I think we're supposed to be making small talk about the weather and the party," she said.

She snuck another glance but then jerked her eyes back to Blake.

"You don’t like small talk," he said.

“No, I don't. There's no point.”

"You can learn a lot about someone just by the way they talk about the weather or this party, I guess in your case.”

“I doubt I’ll get down to your deepest and darkest secrets talking about that lady’s dress, Blake.”

“That's not the point of small talk. Most people aren’t on their guard when speaking about the weather. Pay attention to the way they treat the small things and maybe you’ll get a glimpse into how they handle the big ones."

"They teach you that in the army?”

“Maybe.”

She looked over in his direction, then to the opposite side of the room. She repeated the motion until she spotted what she was searching for, just a couple tables away, behind Blake. It was more than enough to distract her.

"What are you looking for? You look over here, but you're not looking at me."

"Leo," she admitted. "It’s weird for me to have guy friends other than Adam."

"Is that what I am?"

"You’ll always be my friend." Gwen swallowed. "Sometimes I feel like it’s the opposite with you.”

Blake reached over slowly and grasped her wrist. He pulled it over and placed it on his chest. "Do you feel it?" He asked.

Gwen almost closed her eyes. Blake’s chest just below the collarbone was warm and solid, even through his layers. She shook her head. "I only feel you," she said.

Her hand stayed there until she had to drop it once Leo started back for the table. Blake sat back and drank the rest of Adam’s drink.

 

* * *

 

 

One of the bands from the label had the honor of hosting the night’s music. It was band much like the one Adam always wanted to be a part of. It was one of the many reasons that he signed them in the first place. And when the music started like ripples across water, Gwen fully relaxed for the first time in weeks. It was nice, only interrupted by the vibration of her phone in her clutch.

The moment her hand moved towards the purse, Leo caught her wrist in a hard grip. "This is lovely. Please don’t spoil it," Leo murmured.

Gwen left her wrist in his possession. Somewhere around the time she started to actually listen to the tenor voice above the rest of the instruments, Gwen felt a hand rest on her right thigh beneath the table. She looked over to Blake and saw his gaze focused intently on the stage. His thumb started rubbing small circles into the underside of her leg.

The touch held Gwen’s full attention as the music couldn't anymore. He was pressing down, and almost hovering above her skin at the same time. Her wrist was caught by one love and her thigh by the other. The music shifted from something low, a song that picked its way through individual notes and instruments to something swelling, a song grand and tidal and complex.

Blake’s grip on her shifted as well. He fitted his fingers into the hollow of her legs, the soft pressure of gentle fingers that never laid a hand on her, only pressed there and there only. His grip acted as an anchor on her mind and when his hand ventured further up, the air grew heavier in her lungs, her stomach spasmed in unexpected pleasure and the music compressed the space around her like sinking a mile under the ocean. She felt as if she were suspended in a bubble of sound and touch.

Gradually, she became aware of changes: light, movement, cessation of music, the uninterpretable babble of a hundred overlapping voices.

"Are you alright?" Leo leaned over and asked.

"Yeah.” She cleared her throat. “I'm great, actually." Blake retracted his hand slowly and Gwen didn't dare look at him. She extracted her phone out of the clutch to view her missed call.

“King called me. I'm gonna see what’s wrong. I can get you a drink while I'm away.” She offered.

Leo looked pleased. "Thank you, sweetheart."

She nodded and stood up, leaving the table without another word.

 

* * *

 

 

"What's the problem?" Adam asked as she got back to the table.

"No problem. King and Zuma are going out to this live bar and wanted to know if I can come.”

“A live bar? I love those places, ask King if we’re invited.” Behati piped up.

“I thought you said you weren't feeling good and wanted to go home?” Adam looked incredulously at her.

“Yeah that was to get out of this early.”

Blake laughed deeply and Gwen couldn't hold back her smile, even Leo was grinning.

“You know you’re always invited when it comes to my family.” Gwen said. “Do you want to go?” She turned to Leo, heart soaring when he nodded. She looked at Blake. “King and Zuma are my kids. I’d love for you to meet them. They’re really great.”

Blake’s face went utterly blank. It was like a split second of catatonia, and it was one of the weirdest things Gwen had ever seen a human face do.

“Of course," Blake said, and smiled faintly.

"Are you sure."

“It sounds fun.” He replied.

Gwen sipped her champagne and watched the whorls and eddies of the crowd, a current of color and mingled voices that flowed endlessly in and out of the room. She hoped it would be fun for him.

 

* * *

 

 

“King!”  
  
Gwen was already taking long, slightly stiff strides to cover the distance, arms outstretched. Her eldest drew her into a long hug, smiling into her neck. They pulled back and she watched as his eyes narrowed--studious--and then all at once softened vulnerably, wide open. She drew Zuma in much the same way but held on longer to him.

“Hey mom,” Zuma said, and his voice was quite gentle, sweet, one of her favorite sounds.  
  
“I thought you guys forgot about me. You don't call as much as you used to.”

“You’re our favorite woman. We could never forget you.” Kingston reassured her with a smile.

Gwen smiled as her face swiveled toward Blake. She looked away to include Behati, Adam, and Leo in her gaze. “Come here, there's someone I want you guys to meet.” Gwen put a hand on the back of each of their shoulders. “Kingston, Zuma, this is Blake, Adam’s brother.”

“Call me King.” Kingston smiled warmly, shaking hands with Blake.

“Blake.”

“Nice to meet you.” Zuma said, shaking Blake’s hand next.

Kingston was her sandy-haired boy, delicate and plain in his young adult life. He dressed like a professor most of the time. Zuma was drastically different. His hair was all light blonde now, curling slightly around his ears. He was soft but edgy and dressed like a model, fingernails painted a hue purple.

“You have an amazing mother.” Blake complimented as he pulled away.

“Yeah she is.” King agreed. “Crazy, but we like em’ like that.”

This drew a burble of laughter from the assemble. Gwen tucked a hand firmly inside Zuma's elbow, and he covered the hand with his own. As greetings were exchanged, they found a comfortable sitting area with a clear table and chairs to settle down in, right in the middle, right in front of the stage. No one was playing at the moment but the pleasant chatter surrounding them was enough noise to order drinks to.

“So what have you been up to King?” Adam asked after they all received their drinks and the mini appetizers they ordered.

“Not much. Waiting on the next investor so I can fly out to India by the start of the new year,” he said dismissively.

“King runs an orphanage over there.” Gwen said by way of explanation for Blake. The man nodded, clearly impressed.

“We’re looking to expand but the money has to go through first.” He looked suddenly hopeful, a bit mischievous. “I know a way to speed up the process though.”

“Yeah, sleep with the donor’s daughter.” Zuma whipped.

“Ew, gross, King. I raised you better than that.”

The group chuckled as King’s mouth crumpled in a half-smile.

“What do you do Blake,” Zuma asked smoothly.

“I actually live in Canada. Not much to do down there except stay warm.” Her boys and Adam chuckled. “I normally do odd jobs for the town. I'm a good hunter, so catching deer for the town’s people is my main income. Not that I need it.” At their questioning stare, he continued. “I get a nice pension.”

“Blake was in the army.” Adam said.

Zuma leaned forward immediately, followed by King. Hey both shook his hand again across the table. “Thank you for your service.” They said in unison.

“It was my privilege.” He sounded truly sincere.

“I always wondered how men like you kill and then reinsert yourself back into society.” Leo suddenly said.

“Leo…” Gwen said.

“It's an honest curiosity, sorry if it came out wrong. But how do you go from war, to regular people.”

“He is a regular person--” Adam started to say but Blake cut him off.

“No, he has a point. Sometimes I did think that I had a broken brain tucked away in a broken body. But you realize it's not you that's broken. It's the world around you. You just got caught in its mess.”

“I heard you were a drug addict.”

“Leo!”

“Were is actually the wrong word.” Blake said, unflinching. “I am a drug addict. But I've also been clean for four years. And before you ask, yes. I became one after I came home, honorable discharge by the way. I wasn’t broken but I was missin’ pieces of myself. I just wasn't careful what I replaced them with.”

“You don't have to explain yourself, Blake.” Kingston surprisingly said.

Before he could reply, a man spoke into the microphone, effectively rendering the whole establishment quiet. He spoke with an accent, introducing himself as Calum Scott. He looked young and nervous and Gwen smiled at the adorableness, quickly forgetting Leo’s churlish behavior.

“Um, I invite you to stand up, wherever you are...and dance. Hopefully with the one person you want to for the rest of your life..” Calum spoke softly.

The piano intro started up and Gwen felt a breath in her ear. “Will you dance with me?”

She turned to find Leo’s expectant gaze, hopeful and tender eyes, a small smile on his face. She smiled and nodded, allowing him to lead them a little ways away from the group, and closer to the stage.

_Somebody said you got a new friend_

_Does she love you better than I can?_

 

* * *

 

 

“I don’t believe in love at first sight but I do believe in seeing someone from across the room and knowing instantly that they’re going to matter to you. How much does my mom matter to you?”

Blake grimaced something like a smile and straightened his spine.

“I am....in love with her. But she's not mine to love.”

“Does she know?”

The older man nodded.

“I'm sorry.” Kingston said, no pity in his voice, just understanding.

Blake shrugged, still staring at the dancing couple. “We live the lives we choose, and we choose the lives we live.”

_I'm in the corner, watching you kiss her_

_I'm right over here, why can't you see me_

_And I'm giving it my all, but I'm not the guy you're taking home_

_I keep dancing on my own_

_I'm just wanna dance all night_

_And I'm all messed up, I'm so out of line_

_Stilettos and broken bottles_

_I'm spinning around in circles_

Gwen smiles at Leo. It’s like tearing his heart in half.

There are complications, because it’s him, and with him, there are always complications, but the complications do not change the future vows, the rings, the honeymoon, the new status. They are complications because complications are minor hindrances that stutter progress but never stop it, they are only complications because Gwen is apparently happy and they are happy and Blake is so sick of their smug happiness that he wants to snap every single one of their necks.

He never should have asked, never should have put his heart on the line like that. Not for something he can't have but so desperately needs. Even though the now-certain denial of it causes him to press half-moon indentations into his palms whenever he forgets to pay attention, forgets to keep himself in line, forgets to keep himself safe.

Adam looks at him looking at Gwen and Leo and finally, his younger brother sits down next to him. He opens his mouth, and Blake is out of his chair and across the room as fast as he can be without attracting attention.

He tells himself that this was what he wanted, that this was what he did it all for, getting clean, getting relatively sane. For Gwen to be happy. For Gwen to be free to live her life the way she wanted. He just thought that life included him in the process. They always walked and talked with space between them, but their shoulders never failed to brush. Their eyes would always find each other. She's not even looking at him anymore.

_So far away, but still so near_

_The lights come up, the music dies_

_But you don't see me standing here_

Gwen dances with Leo and her eyes are on him, as they should be. Blake dances on his own.

 

* * *

 

 

“How did you know about me?” Blake asked as he sat down again. Adam and Behati had joined Gwen and Leo on the dance floor, the singer from before having disappeared behind the stage, the overhead speaker taking his place. Some reggae tune was playing now and most of the bar’s guests were up and dancing.

“I saw. The way your jaw clenched every time Leo touched her. Your eyes are sad. Especially when she smiles at him.”

“You’re a smart kid.”

“I try. You know they’re getting married, right?”

“Hard to miss the ring when I'm not too busy starin’ at her face.”

Kingston grinned. “He's not a bad guy. He can be an ass at times but then again, my mom was always drawn towards guys like that. Even my dad.”

“I know about your dad. I'm really sorry.”

He nodded his gratitude. “How was it over there? You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to.”

“It's not any better than over here, or any worse. The difference is, they don't hide their hatred or disgust. Everything terrible is open and raw. It's normal for them.”

“Were you in combat?”

“Sometimes.”

“Did you kill?”

“Sometimes.”

“How did it feel?”

“Honestly? Good. Killin’ is the ugliest thing in the world, but when you do it to get rid of all the wrong, all the bad, it feels good.”

“Are you a religious man?”

“I try to be.”

“God doesn't like killing.”

“Really? It must feel good to God too, he does it all the time. And aren't we created in his image?”

“He crashed my father’s car. Did God feel good about that?”

“....He felt powerful.”

“You’re an honest man, Blake. I think I like you.”

“I think I like you too.”

“I got more drinks for us!” Gwen appeared at Blake’s side suddenly, bearing a small tray with different sorts of drinks on it. Blake accepted his own glass but did not immediately sip. He cleared his throat, “You look like you were having fun out there.”

Gwen smiled. “Tell us a story. You’re good at that.” Gwen perched on the arm of a nearby sofa next to Leo, head tipped just slightly in expectation.

How much has she had to drink, he thought.

“I don't have any good stories.”

“Yeah you do. Tell the one you used to tell me to get me to sleep. You know the one.” Adam said.

Blake sighed.  He cleared his throat and took a pull from the glass and exhaled audibly, throwing Adam a glance that was a blend of amusement and something like distress. Adam raised his eyebrows, encouraging.

“There was a handsome man with green eyes who stole a witch’s wand,” Blake began, smiling softly. “He had a sweetheart, and the two ran off together after the sweetheart’s mother tried to kill him.”

“How handsome?” Behati asked.

“Really handsome,” Blake replied, finding his way into the telling of the tale. “Tall and slim, lightish brown hair. His eyes were tricky but always stayed green. He was perfect.”

“Had himself a sweetheart, though, what a shame,” Zuma put in, and there was light laughter throughout the group.  
  
Gwen’s folded hands began to roll over and under each other in slow motion but her face was schooled, placid, smiling.   
  
“The mother chased after them; she was the witch whose wand the green eyed man had stolen,” Blake went on. “She almost caught them, but the green eyed man used the wand to change his sweetheart into a pond, and himself into a swan. At least that was what mom said.” Adam chuckled. “Anyway, when the witch--the sweetheart’s mother--came upon them, she didn’t know what they had become. So she took off on another road, still searching.” Blake sipped at the vodka, licked his lips, and as he remembered the story, something low and growling came alive in the pit of Blake’s chest.

“Once she left, the green eyed man and his sweetheart turned back toward their regular forms, and made promises to each other that they would always stay together. Then they ran on. But the very next day the green eyed man smelled the witch’s perfume in the air, so he stopped them beside a hedge of thorn bushes and used the wand to make his sweetheart into an pianist and himself into a snow-white rose tucked deeply where the rest of them laid.”

“What about the sweetheart? Pretty?” Kingston ventured, and Behati and Zuma both grunted approval of his demand for details.  
  
“She was the most beautiful thing the world had ever seen, full of charisma. Seductive,” Blake said, and Gwen looked at the floor, careful to keep a neutral facial expression. “The witch asked the pianist to reach in and get the rose for her. She agreed, but on one condition. The witch had to listen to her play a bit. The witch agreed, but the moment the first notes rang out, she realized her mistake. There was dark magic in the song, and soon she tripped and fell from dancing, landed right in the thorn bush. The thorns tore at her skin and she bled to death from the ten thousand cuts.”

“So the sweetheart could stop running away, then,” Gwen offered in a low, strange voice. Everyone turned to look at her curiously; Gwen’s gaze stayed fixed on Blake.

“But doesn’t freedom usually come at a price?” He replied, and took a long pull of the vodka, rolling it over his tongue before swallowing. “The sweetheart’s green eyed man said once they’d come back to themselves, he would make them a home to share, and the green eyed man used the wand to turn his sweetheart into a stone. So she would always be there. The sweetheart said she would wait for him to come back for her--to take her to their home and marry her. They promised to remain faithful and devoted to each other.”

Blake flicked a glance Gwen’s way. “The green eyed man went into the nearest town, and instantly fell under the spell of another sweetheart.” Blake shook his head. “And so his true sweetheart, eventually gave up hope of waiting, and changed herself into a flower. Hopin’ someone might come along and crush her.”

“Not long after, along came a man who was no good to anybody anymore. When he saw the flower, he thought it was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen, and so he plucked it and took it home and put it in a vase so he could see it every day. The flower sometimes changed back into a sweetheart, and the sweetheart loved him because he’d saved the flower instead of destroying it.”

“The man who was no good to anybody anymore found a book of magic, and turned the flower back into the sweetheart for good. She had no choice but to show herself to him. And so she poured out her story of the witch--her mother--who tried to murder her love, and the wand he had stolen, and her green eyed man who had made promises but then betrayed her. The man who was no good to anybody anymore was in love and offered for the sweetheart to stay and share his home, said that they would find a way together to be happier tomorrow than they’d been yesterday.”

Blake paused to wet his mouth with the drink. The room hung on his words, air taut with anticipation. He hated this part of the story. Always did when his mom told it back to him.

“The sweetheart said no,” Gwen said, and all heads turned. She held his gaze.

“She said no,” Blake agreed. “The sweetheart refused because she made a promise to be true to her handsome green eyed man. And so the man who was no good to anybody anymore offered to take whatever there was to have, and the sweetheart stayed, but kept her heart half-hidden, and it wasn’t a perfect thing, they didn't share a perfect life, but it was good enough.” He cleared his throat and turned his attention to the rest of the group.

“There was a wedding. The green eyed man was supposed to choose a sweetheart and then marry. His true sweetheart didn't want to go. Half her heart was hidden and the other half was broken. But in the end, she went. And in that crowd, the green eyed man picked her out, and demanded his sweetheart return to him. She made a promise and she would keep it. So she stayed.”

“Soulmates,” Behati said.

“Promises made and kept.” Adam voiced.

“It's a happy ending. What’s there not to love?” Zuma asked.

“A promise.” Gwen said. “It’s that a promise can come at a price.”

Blake crunched ice between his back teeth. “What good is a promise of faith, made to a faithless person?” He smiled easily, and spread his hands in a questioning gesture. “But it’s only a fairy tale, made to entertain children, like me and my brother. No one really cares about the moral of the story.”

“I thought it was really good, Blake.” Kingston gushed.

“I never heard it before. You should tell the kids that story. Dusty would love it.” Behati mentioned.

As the group raised their glasses, then busied themselves with the last of their drinks, the final bites of whatever they were eating, Blake stared at Gwen the entire time, watching as she tried to keep her own eyes off of him.

 

* * *

 

 

They were parked in Gwen’s driveway, the wind crept in around them through the open windows. The moon hung over the house, dim in a flat, black sky. The only noises were their breathing and the contraction of cooling metal.

Adam and Leo had gone back to the label party to take care of business and wrap for the night, allowing Gwen a few hours to herself. She wasted no time bringing Blake along with her after the two men left, kissing her children goodbye and wishing Behati a safe trip home. No one knew that they left together and Gwen was starting to change her mind about things the longer they sat there.

"What are we doing, Blake," Gwen asked.

"I'm not sure you're the one allowed to ask that question."

"And yet you’re the one in my car, sitting outside my house.”

Gwen just caught Blake’s breath of laughter, and it gave her the courage to look over at him. He didn't look angry or sad, only far away.

"Would you like to come in?" Gwen asked.

"Do you want me to?"

“Do you want me to want you to?”

Blake turned toward her. "Would it surprise you to learn that I very much want to have sex with you tonight?"

"Honestly? A little bit, yeah. I don't know why you would want me after you’ve seen me with him all night."

“It makes me want you even more."

Blake took her wrist and brought it close to his face and paused. One hand cradled hers, and the other wrapped loosely around her forearm. Gwen could both hear and feel him inhale deeply before he pressed his lips against her pulse.

“Let's go inside?”

Gwen just nodded. It seemed like a very long time before Blake released her and opened the car door.

Gwen shook her head hard and plunged into the light and warmth of her home. "Come into the kitchen," she said. "I'll make coffee."

The espresso machine hissed and puffed steam. Gwen filled two small cups and placed two brown sugar cubes in each.

Blake set his cup down and adjusted the angle of the handle. Gwen leaned against the counter. "Was that on purpose?" She asked.

Hm?" Blake looked at her over the rim of his cup.

"The story. Was it always told that way?”

Blake blinked slowly at her. "It's told the way I wanted to tell it."

"That doesn't answer my question." Gwen pulled herself up to sit on the wide counter, next to the sink.

"It kind of did." Blake set his cup down and moved closer. He put his hands on her knees and pushed them apart until he could stand between them. “You realize you’re the sweetheart.”

"Yes," Gwen said, dizzy with all the ways in which she knew it was her, inside and out. 

Blake dragged the side of his face against Gwen’s and inhaled deeply, nosing at her neck. Gwen pulled at his tie, fingers scrabbling on the silk.

"I want you naked," she said, and threw the tie onto the stove. The tip dangled over the center burner, and Gwen found herself caught by it, blue and black against ebony iron.

Blake straightened and let his suit jacket fall to the floor. His vest followed and then he unbuttoned his shirt and toed off his shoes. Socks, undershirt. His belt hit the kitchen floor with a clink.

Blake’s clothes could hide a lot, and in his case they hid muscle. His skin stretched over it like a skim of frost on black ice. She hesitated to touch his markings and burns.

Blake gripped her instead, pulled her to the edge of the counter so she was pressed flush against Blake’s thigh. She shifted and rocked, helpless to stop herself.

"Now you," Blake said. Gwen started fumbling with the back of her dress before remembering her bruises. Her knees and legs had healed and were covered in makeup as well, but she couldn't expose the rest of her body to him.

“I want to keep my dress on.”

Blake caught her hands. “Why?”

“I want you to take me with it on. _Please._ ”

Blake hesitated a moment and then went down on one knee to remove her heels. Blake worked in silence, deft fingers grabbing underneath her underwear waistband and stripping it down. Blake leaned into her space, hands flat on the counter, bracketing her thighs.

“This is his kitchen.”

“And I'm on this counter. Do you want me?”

“More than you know.”

Gwen pulled her feet up onto the counter and leaned back. Her knees splayed outward. She gripped the edge of the counter with one hand and the cabinet door above her head with the other. Blake loomed over her. Light flowed over the higher planes of his face and cast the recessions of his eyes and the corners of his mouth into darkness. He slid one hand up Gwen’s chest to her throat. Her breath caught hard, and her hips jerked. The grip was barely there, but it was enough to hold her steady as Blake worked two fingers inside her.

She snapped her head back, and it hit wood with a dull thud.

"Careful now," Blake murmured. He slid his thumb down the center of her throat.

Gwen got one elbow under her and levered herself halfway to sitting. She grabbed a handful of Blake’s hair and dragged him down until she could feel his breath across her lips. "I don't want you to be careful."

Gwen’s heart beat fit to break her rib cage. It burned as Blake snatched his fingers away and instead started to press inside her. It felt impossible, the perfect metaphor for her life: one more thing she couldn't possibly take and yet desperately wanted.

They grew more tangled. Gwen’s hand on Blake’s forearm, her leg supported in the crook of Blake’s elbow, Blake’s cock slowly opening her up.

"More," she said, on a breathless exhale.

He drove in, not roughly, but with no respite. Gwen arched her back against granite that had warmed to her body, slid in her own sweat, and Blake’s thumb pressed into the hollow of her throat to pin her down.

Blake sank all the way in at last, withdrew, and started to fuck her. It was slow and controlled.

"Please," she said. It came out sounding like a sob.

"What do you need, Gwen?"

She needed Blake to still need her. She needed a man who was no good to anybody anymore. She needed things she's not sure she should be allowed to need. She shook her head and turned away, cheek pressed to the counter top. Blake made a low noise and slid his hand up her neck. Two fingers dug in behind her ear, and Blake’s thumb pressed into her mouth, ran along the sharp edge of her teeth. He forced Gwen’s head back to center. Their eyes met, and everything Gwen wanted was there: love and desperation and need.

It was like looking in a mirror.

They both groaned, and Blake slammed into her, harder now and faster. Each thrust slid Gwen backward, and each time Blake’s grip pulled her close again. Every stroke drove the head of Blake’s cock across sensitive muscles. She closed her teeth around Blake’s thumb and sucked hard as she started to stroke herself.

Blake thrust in almost brutally hard, and Gwen felt it as a compaction of her spine and a bright, hot spike of pleasure. Blake stared down at her as he came, eyes wide open and frighteningly dark.

His lips moved silently around the shape of Gwen’s name, and Gwen came as well, in violent shudders, streaks of nails stretched up his chest and over Blake’s arm.

The air was close and hot, as if they were in a much smaller space than the cavernous kitchen. Gwen was still panting, and Blake’s skin gleamed with sweat. Blake pulled out and bent over Gwen, letting her leg fall limply against the counter. He pulled his thumb from Gwen’s mouth and ran it in a slippery path over her lower lip and across her jaw. He stroked along her high cheekbones, pressed lightly into the hollow under her eye.

He was right there. His hands and eyes and wet, open mouth an inch from Gwen’s. But then he retreated back into himself. He straightened and brought Gwen up with him. Neither of them spoke, even now, though Blake looked like he wanted to.

Gwen slid down from the counter. It pressed her up against Blake’s body, and he didn't step back, even when Gwen put a hand on his chest and pushed. There wasn't any strength behind it.

She had to clear her throat before she got her voice to work. Her throat felt raw, and she wondered what she'd sounded like, during. She was about to speak when the front door slammed closed.  

Blake looked hard at her for a few seconds and Gwen felt the beginnings of a damn break behind her.

She hoped the water didn't drown them both.


	9. I'm broke, let me show you where it hurts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title of this chapter is from the brilliant song Undone, by No Doubt, as are the lyrics to start the chapter. I recommend giving it a listen as this song was most of my inspiration for writing this chapter.

_Change me back, please, change me back._

Gwen watched in a daze as Blake dressed quickly, his jeans pulled up and zipped, his shirt thrown back on, but still unbuttoned. She only came back to herself when he pressed close to her. She looked down and realized he was holding her panties open for her to step into. She placed her hands on his shoulders and complied. He straightened her dress back down quickly. She looked at his half dressed body just as footsteps sounded down the hallway and into the kitchen. She panicked but her nerves turned into shock as Blake grabbed her coffee cup and threw the rest of the scalding liquid on his chest, over his shirt until the brown stained and seeped through to his skin. He winced and stepped away from her just as Leo walked in.

He was surprised to see Blake there, that much was certain, and Gwen half expected his face to change from surprise to anger in a matter of seconds. But Leo just looked down and saw the coffee mess on Blake’s front, his surprise growing by the minute.

“Hi. Hey, what--I thought you were at the party?” Gwen broke the silence hesitantly.

Leo put his hands in his pants pockets. “Adam took care of everything. I had some papers to sign, nothing much.”

Blake was wiping his shirt with a paper towel as Leo spoke, not focusing on either of the other two people in the room.

“Oh. That's good, I'm happy I don't have to spend the night alone. Blake was just keeping me company. I stayed at his home for a whole month, I figured I'd let him see ours.” She noticed Blake’s flinch from the corner of her eye. “He spilled his coffee..” Gwen trails off lamely.

Leo didn't say anything, but he stepped further into the kitchen. Blake threw the napkin away and nodded to himself. He grabbed for his blazer and finally turned to look at the other man in the room.

“I gotta be up early tomorrow. Thanks for the tour Gwen.” He stopped in front of Leo on his way out. “You have a nice home...and a great woman. Congratulations, man.”

He didn't wait for a response as he walked out the kitchen. Gwen followed him immediately, Leo not far behind her.

“You didn't drive.” She calls to him.

“I’ll walk.”

The door slammed closed in her face.

“Gwen--”

“It's freezing outside. I'm not letting Adam’s brother walk all the way to his hotel, that's insane.” Gwen chose her words carefully but left no room for argument. Leo seemed to be in a forgiving mood as he nodded. “I'm just gonna convince him to let me drive him back.”

“I’ll drive him.” Leo said sharply. “If he says yes. You shouldn't be out this late. I’ll drive him.”

Gwen simply nodded and grabbed her coat.

She found Blake almost half way down the sidewalk. She called after him but he didn't stop.

“Please, Blake come on."

She ran after him. When she finally caught up to Blake, she placed a hand on his shoulder. He whirled around and pushed her away.

“You can’t treat people like this,” he practically shouted. “You can't treat _me_ like this.”

“Blake--” He leaned forward and rubbed his hands over his face. “Stop. For once just stop, please.”

They sat in silence for a minute before Blake straightened up.

“Where does this end?" He asked.

“Where does what end?”

“ _This_. _Us_.”

"Why should it end?"

"Everything ends."

“We don't have to. Things will get better, soon. You just have to find something to hold on to," Gwen said. “For me.”

"I'm trying to hold onto _you_ but you’re making that really difficult right now.”

She looked up at Blake. “I'm trying.”

“What are we doing here?” He asked abruptly. “Are you using me, or is this something more?”

"You're asking me to end something that won't go away after I do. It hurts me and I’m scared and I can't," Gwen said, desperately grasping for any part of him to hold onto. She found a hand and held it so tightly in her hers.

“What the hell are you talkin' about, Gwen. What's wrong? Why are you afraid to be with me?”

“It's not about you! I'm not afraid to be with you, I'm afraid to leave him!”

“Why?” Blake shouted. “I’ll be here for you. I’ll protect you from anything.”

Gwen pulled away from his hand. “You can’t make promises like that.”

“I can. I have.”

“Then you shouldn’t. You can’t expect me to depend on you for--” Anything. Everything. She didn’t know how she wanted that sentence to end. “It’s unrealistic. It’s crazy.” No one’s ever given that to me before, she thought bitterly.

“I don’t see it that way. I want to take care of you.”

Gwen’s hands tightened into fists at her sides. She pushed past him, needing the space he needed just minutes before. “This isn’t a fairy tale. This isn't I leave him and run away with you. This isn’t _easy_.”

She heard Blake’s voice behind her. “I never said it was. But it doesn't have to be so damn hard either.”

“You still don't get it.” She turned around to face him. “I am not a fantasy….What’s next? Do you want to go find a puddle so you can lay your cloak across it for me? Prince charmings don’t exist. All men ever do is hurt you and make you think that's all you can ever have."

Blake looked at her for a moment as they came to a halt at an intersection. He took off his blazer and tossed it across the filthy pavement and water in the gutter without a word.

Gwen stared at him, breath stopped in her throat. Blake’s face was blank and remote. That same chilling silence hung around him.

Gwen bent slowly and picked up the coat. She brushed the filth and water off it as well as she could. She stood looking down at dirty crystals on the dark blue wool for what felt like a very long time.

"I’m sorry," Blake said finally. "That wasn’t...I could have handled that better."

The corner of Gwen’s mouth pulled up in an unwilling smile. "As far as losing your temper goes, I’ve seen worse."

She offered Blake his jacket back. Blake took it, though he didn’t put it on. He didn’t seem to feel the cold. Gwen looked down at the ugly stain, once again.

“Did you burn yourself?”

“It’s fine.” He replied.

Gwen shook her head. “I'm so sorry. For everything that's happened.”

“Don't be sorry, just be mine.”

“I am.” Gwen pushed herself into his arms, head resting against his chest. She buried her face in his neck and closed her eyes. After a second, Blake wrapped his arms around her to pull her closer.

“What did you mean earlier?” He asked.

“About what?”

“About men only hurting you. I thought you were happy with Leo. I thought that was the reason why you hadn't left him yet. Why it’s so hard for you.”

Gwen tensed. “Don't people only ever hurt you?”

“But that's not what you meant.”

Gwen pulled away from him. “It was just something I said. Look, it's freezing. Let us drive you home.”

“I appreciate that but I rather walk.”

“Blake--”

“I can handle myself. If I get tired, I’ll call Adam’s driver.”

“Will you at least text me when you get home?”

“Sure.”

Gwen laid a hand over Blake’s heart.

“I want to show you something. Will you come to my job tomorrow?” She asked.

Blake looked unsure, “What time?”

“First thing in the morning. It's usually just me and a couple of my assistants.”

“Okay.”

“Okay? Good, thank you. I--you deserve the truth. You deserve more than what I'm giving you, and I know that.”

Blake smiled down at her, an amused glint in his blue eyes.

“What’s so funny?”

“Nothin’ it's just….few people get what they deserve.”

“What do you think you deserve?" She asked.

“I deserve you. The rest..I don't really care about."

Gwen rubbed her arms insecurely. She threw herself back into his arms, no longer able to resist the effect his words had on her. “I love you,” she murmurs. A gust of wind sent goosebumps throughout her flesh, and water started drizzling down from above. They were both quiet, listening to the outside world settle back into its rhythm. Gwen knew her heart would never quite synchronize with it again.

* * *

 

Lizzy slid aside the ornately carved teakwood door, exposing an ill-defined space, dark but for a faint bluish glow, and Gwen vanished behind it, the trailing train of her gown barely inside before the door slid shut. Once inside the second sliding door, Gwen crossed her office/dressing room in a few long strides, settling on the edge of the red armchair, raising the hem of the gown’s many layers of skirt in order to immediately remove the boots, which were knee-high, black burnt-out velvet in a vaguely Art Deco floral pattern, with tall platforms and towering heels. Once free of them, Gwen rolled her ankles, flexed her toes, then rose to go at the fastenings of the gown—a hidden zip, a few hooks-and-eyes, and it was easy to shake loose and let fall, the sleeves dragging away from Gwen’s bare shoulders as they went. She stepped out of the left-behind puddle of silk velvet, chiffon, the rumpled tulle of the underskirts. She was trying on new designs for the fall line and upcoming spring season. She had just finished her sixth assemble.

She found her black cashmere robe on a hook in the little office bathroom, venturing a glance at her face in the small vanity mirror as she put it on. Her face held minimal makeup and her hair was a long mess down her back. She tied shut the dressing gown in front, crossing it so she was covered below the waist, leaving it mostly open in front. She left her bra on the floor and steeled herself for the knock on the sliding door, which shimmied, echoing dully where it hung in its track.

“Gwen…” Lizzy cleared her throat. “There's a Blake here to see you.”

“I’ll be out in a minute. Tell him to wait in the hall.”

Gwen anticipated the melt down before it even started happening. She knew what she was getting herself into, what she was _giving_ herself away to. Her brain whispered for her to stop and change her mind, but her heart carried her feet to the door and did what needed to be done.

The door slid aside and Blake drew back blinking against the light from the dressing room, for the little passageway was almost completely dark. He stepped back to make way and Gwen’s slim frame was silhouetted briefly in the doorframe as she turned to slide the door shut behind her. The door rumbled closed, and they were in almost complete darkness: a single, small bulb recessed in the ceiling gave off a weird blue glow, casting strange shadows on his face.

“What did you want to show me?” Blake asked. He was speaking quietly, but even so, Gwen hushed him.

“Leo will be up here after his meeting and I don't want my assistants to talk.”

Blake cut a glance behind her and nodded. Before he could look back at Gwen, the feeble blue glow vanished with a click. Blake blinked into utter darkness.

“You said you wanted to take care of me,” Gwen whispered, and suddenly there was a palm pressing against Blake’s chest, stroking outward and up, until fingertips curled around the top edge of his shoulder.

“Always,” Blake whispered back, and the smell of Gwen’s perfume was tickling the air around him, and he felt the solid presence of a body in front of him. The hand slid up his shoulder to the side of his neck, found his jaw, and the index finger dragged forward against the lower edge of his ear, the thumb sliding in a half-circle across his chin. “If you’ll let me.” The pad of Gwen’s thumb was soft against his lower lip, feather-light brushing, side to side. “Do you want me to?”

Silence. Utter darkness. The tip of the thumb found the center of his lip, dipped in, pressed down, stroking damp as it retreated.

The hand slid down his chin, tracing his throat, and Blake bared it, the touching of his scar as the fingers squeezed ever-so-slightly as if helping him swallow, then smoothed upward again to catch his jaw. The other hand found his forearm in the darkness then, skipping down to catch his wrist, his hand, pulling, setting Blake’s palm on a shock of naked hip. The dressing gown had been shed after the light went out. Blake’s fingers curved tight, not digging in, not moving, and a low sound rolled out between his lips.

“What are you doin to me,” he murmured. The hand that held his jaw tightened, and pulled it down. Blake let his lips stay apart, dipped his tongue out to wet them. “Gwen.”

The breath caressed him first, and then a second later, the lips and tongue, wet and demanding against his mouth. The body came after, pressure and force meeting Blake at breast and belly and hip and thigh. He let himself be kissed, let himself be shoved, crushed back against the wall. Gwen’s mouth was slick with rosewater-scented lacquer Blake wanted to chew off and swallow. Her tongue rolled deep against his, and Blake surrendered to the kiss, hands possessively curving around Gwen’s ass.

“I need a promise,” Gwen whispered into his mouth, and then caught his bottom lip between her teeth and worried it back and forth before sweeping the tongue in again. There were voices in the office behind them, bland questions and quick responses, male and female, how many Blake couldn’t tell and didn’t care.

Gwen drew back, released his jaw in favour of gripping his hips with both small hands, pinning him back against the wall, and leaning hard with her stomach against his waist, one bent leg insinuating itself between Blake’s legs.

“What is it?” He was beginning to feel stupid and drunk and really rather wanted to slither to his knees, all the way to the floor, and lick Gwen’s feet in supplication, then her entire body.

Gwen’s torso shifted against him, a welcome crush. Blake’s grip tightened against her backside, giving him leverage as his hips rocked up, and up, and Gwen’s mouth came open against his neck, then brushed hot against his ear as she raised up on her toes. “Please promise.” One forearm brushed the top of Blake’s shoulder as Gwen wrapped it around his neck, a flat palm braced on the side of his neck again. “Please...I need you to...”

“Yes--fine. I promise.”

Gwen exhaled the words against the side of Blake’s face. “Don’t ask.”

Blake couldn’t imagine, realized he didn’t even really care. He was aching and desperate. The woman he loved was naked and shoving him against a wall, smearing painted glossed lips against his neck, and his hands were cupping smooth-hot-soft-hard flesh that rolled and flexed against his palms.

“I promise,” Blake whispered again, and tipped his chin down, ducking his face in search of Gwen’s rosewater lips. Their mouths met, open, messy, and Blake groaned as Gwen’s bare chest brushed upward against his own clothed one, threatening to press the breath out him. “I love you so much. You love me, right?”

Gwen nodded, nose and chin brushing his cheek, and her body dropped away just a bit as Blake removed his hands from Gwen’s rocking, thrusting backside and dragged both stretched palms up the muscular length of her back. She shivered, and her back bowed so her chest pressed even harder against his. Blake’s fingers skipped and skidded, and Gwen practically writhed.

“All right?” He whispered, and brushed his mouth against the plane of Gwen’s cheek, the blade of bone, smooth skin that tasted sweet and salty.

“Don’t ask,” she whispered, and it was urgent, harsh. “Don’t ask. No questions. Don’t--”

His hands smoothed up onto the flat expanses of her shoulder blades, then down again. There were divots, and slick-smooth hairless spots, and ropey protrusions. Scattered, coin-sized patches of flaking rough. Scabs? Scars. _Scars_.

“Gwen.”

“Shh. You promised me.”

Gwen kissed him again, not as hard, and slower, like a plea. Blake couldn't accept it, nonetheless, he let one arm cradle Gwen’s back, and made space enough between them to lay his palm in the center of Gwen’s chest, sliding it up beneath the robe, and felt Gwen’s chest expanding with each panted breath, heart thudding hard beneath the heel of his hand.

“It’s nothing. It’s nowhere, here. We’re no one,” Gwen whispered, and reached for his hand at her chest, raised it to her mouth to drag tongue and lips across it, hips rolling and shifting against Blake’s clothed groin, moaning into his palm. Gwen guided his hand down, and Blake turned his wrist, pressed his palm against Gwen’s own needy flesh, then slid two fingers inside her before trailing his hand back up over her belly and breast, kneeling the soft tissue. Gwen shuddered and stifled a groan in the curve of his shoulder.

“Please don't tell me this is what I think it is,” Blake breathed into her hair. “I want to see you. I need to see them.”

“Shh,” Gwen hushed him again; Blake’s whispers were rising in volume as Gwen rocked up against him.

“Turn on the light.”

“Shh.”

“Gwen.”

The rosewater lacquer had all been smeared away and Gwen’s lips, searching out his mouth in the dark, tasted instead of Blake’s own peppermint saliva. Blake’s fingers dug into the slots between Gwen’s ribs, there at her side, and the feel of Gwen’s injuries hot and silky in his palm was making him see red while surrounded by black.

“Show me,” he begged, barely above his breath. Gwen palmed his erection through his jeans and Blake bucked up into it reflexively. His heart was thudding, his blood burning, his brain melting. He didn't know if it was the rage building inside of him or the fire of passion Gwen was slowly feeding until he burned gruesomely. His focus shifted down to the feel of skin and bone as he slid his hand down Gwen’s back, squeezed one alternately tightening and slackening cheek, reached under the muscular thigh to pull Gwen’s leg up closer and around his hip, harder.

“Wait,” Gwen urged, and she withdrew her hand from the front placket of his pants, encircled Blake’s sliding fingers with her own on her thigh, guiding him. She hummed, long and low, then pressed her teeth against the side of his throat, and then licked the spot she’d bitten. “Just wait.”

He did, he let Gwen roll against him like a storm tide. All sharp angles, heavy, hard, hand planted in his hair, pulling and then soothing. Fingers entwined with Blake’s, taking what she wanted, what Blake would give because this was nothing like drowning, it was exactly like drowning, surrendering, letting her wash and tumble over him like water, rosewater, wet mouth, tongue sharp. Teeth white. Body presumed white. A love and passion catching and pulling, shredding, mouth again, hot, open, gasping, gasping, bitten lips, humming, urgent, desperate, pleas. He never stopped whispering.

_Let me see you Gwen, please_.

There were bitten lips beside his ear, hoarse, moaning, wet, hot, sticky hot, and the sharp ocean water smell of it.

Gwen just kept hushing him. Her deft fingers went to his button and zip, sank in and drew him forth, gently wringing, tracing, and a slow-squeezing drag was all it took to finish him in the corner of Gwen’s upright hip and forward-thrust thigh.

They breathed against each other, wanting to sink, already sinking, already falling together, falling and falling until Gwen found her feet and stopped falling with him. She suddenly drew back. Blake felt a deep unsettling feeling in his chest and he moved to tuck himself away, fasten his jeans in the dark, listening to Gwen’s breath somewhere in the near distance.

“Turn on the light.”

There was a silent second. Blake ventured a half-step forward, and his extended hand found warm skin, a rack of ribs, an elbow, and just the hint given by his hand showed him the shape of her body so that it was easy to slide an arm around her back, rest a hand on the side of her throat, thumb her jaw and draw her up into a kiss. A lingering pull at her swollen bottom lip, then he drifted across to find Gwen’s ear. “I feel like you’re trying to destroy me.”

“You were broken long before I came around.” Gwen whispered.

“I thought I was the only one.” Blake remarked, his lips brushed her ear. “Tell me to stop or I’ll fall in love with you again.” He kissed her there beside her ear, jaw smooth and soft.

Gwen’s hands rested at his sides, and her fingertips dug in and retreated, pulsing.

Blake drew back from her ear. “Everyone has scars. I have scars. Turn on the light, Gwen.”

“You already know.”

“I need to see.”

Minutes past before anything happened. A shifting slide, and Gwen vanished from in front of him. The door to the dressing room slid open a hand’s width. Blake blinked against the flood of light, rubbed his eyes with the flats of his fingertips. Once he’d adjusted to it, he found Gwen leaning on one shoulder against the wall, an arm hugging her own waist, the other resting diagonally across her chest with long fingers massaging her own shoulder. Her chin was tilted down and her gaze was hooded by heavy eyelids, lips swollen from kissing, looking bruised.

Her long white body was a riot of purple and pink and white scars--some flat, some raised, some dug into the surface as if carved there--from knees to hips, up her abdomen and chest, staining her arms from shoulder to elbow. All those marks, dressed in a constellation of stars only he coukd find beautiful. It matches his own skin. Blake refused to gasp, refused to show any signs of surprise. He wanted to shout. He let his lips part, schooled his breath. Gwen turned. Her back was a road map of suffering, red and blue, thick and thin, random tangles of new and old. Someone had recently burned her shoulder. Someone had many times cut her with a razor. Someone had put out about a hundred of their cigarettes on her.

Blake’s chest was on fire. His eyes were prickling. He wanted to scream. Gwen dropped the arm that had been slung up over onto her shoulder, shielding her breast, drawing his attention to the elegant fingers, the angle of the hand. Someone had broken her wrist.

“You promised you wouldn't ask,” Gwen murmured, and after another moment she shoved the door open the rest of the way and walked into the office/dressing room, straight across to fetch out another robe from a hook on a door. She draped it over herself, tied it at the waist. Blake stepped through the doorway, but just barely.

“I’ll put a bullet in him.”

His brain was clattering with rage.

“You said you won’t--”

“I said I won't ask. And I won't. I don't want to hear how you let that asshole put his hands on you. I don't want to hear how you kept this from me. I don't want to hear any of it. I’ll kill him.”

“Stop it.”

“I’ll kill Adam too. How in the hell did you keep this from them? From me? How come I didn't see all these scars and bruises on your arms and legs before?”

Gwen shook her head, exhaling a protest through her nostrils.

“It’s not Adam’s fault. I put makeup on to cover them,” she mumbled so quietly.

Blake saw red again. “Leave him right now or I’ll--”

“You’ll what? He won't let me go, Blake. He said...he said he’ll kill me if I ever even think about leaving him.”

“He won't. You’re packing a bag right now and then you’re stayin' with me at the hotel.” Gwen shook her head. “Do you hear me? This isn't up for discussion, Gwen.”

“What if I deserve it? I left you to get clean on your own. I must have done something wrong for Gavin to cheat on me and look where he is. I do everything wrong with Leo and look where _I_ am. Everyone I love either ends up getting hurt by me or ends up hurting me first. I want you to be different.”

“I am different. You don't have to be perfect for me to love you. You don't have to do things that hurt you."

"I don't know how to do anything else."

“You can learn. You’re beautiful, Gwen. I love you for who you are. Even now, I think you’re beautiful. Even now, I still love you.”

Gwen shut her eyes and turned around. She opened them to find her ugly reflection in the wall mirror in front of her. Blake walked up behind her.

“Don’t fall in love,” Gwen said, and Blake caught her eye in the glass. “Not with this part of me.”

“I love every part of you.”

“Don't fall in love with it.” She repeated again.

“Tell me to stop this, then, before I do.”

Gwen said nothing.

“I know I have to go but I don't want to. How am I supposed to leave you alone with him knowin’ what I know now?”

Gwen shook her head. “He does this to me and I still love him. How messed up does that make me? How sick is love?”

“There's no treatment for love but to love more.”

Hearing the words out loud blind her for a moment. She thought she could change Leo, and if not change him, placate him with more love, more kisses, more touches. All it did was make her more sick.

Gwen turned and reached for Blake, who wound arms around her easily, ducked down for a kiss he somehow knew Gwen needed.

“I’ll pack a bag tonight,” Gwen offered.

Blake nodded, and kissed her quick, and pulled away. “I have to go don't I,” his voice was quiet, edged with hesitation.

She met his gaze with pleading eyes. “I’ll be fine. He never...not in public.”

“I don't want to know,” Blake said flatly.

“I do love you,” Gwen said and leaned in to kiss him again. “Thank you for--”

“Nevermind,” Blake soothed. “I love you too. You’re beautiful and I’ll see you later, right?”

“Around ten,” Gwen murmured, and released him.

Blake trailed her through the open door and the narrow passage. Gwen slid open the door to the office; they crossed to the elevators and Gwen pressed the button. Gwen looked around before embracing him once again. They exchanged lingering, soft kisses until the doors slid open. Blake stepped inside, and they exchanged meaningful nods, soft little encouraging smiles. Once the lift doors closed, Blake counted to twenty before he punched the brushed steel surface of the door as hard as he could, denting it deeply. He staggered back, cradling his throbbing fist.

 

 

 


	10. When it's all said and done.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title of this chapter is from the beautiful song Once, by Maren Morris, as are the lyrics to start the chapter. I recommend giving it a listen as this song was most of my inspiration for writing this chapter.

_Don't forget that you loved me once_

 

Leo is dead on his feet. He worked all day with a new client, and barely had time for lunch or a break. He even had to cancel on his meeting with Gwen. He’s been working too hard, he knows, and he's probably going to have to talk to Adam about his hours but with the new baby coming in the next few months, he knows he's going to be taking on more responsibility than he is now. He physically rejects the idea. All he wants now when he gets home is a good meal, a long bath, and a glass of wine.

The house is empty--Gwen called him to say she was meeting with the record label executives on the new line of fashion wear specially made for certain clients and artists. He wanted to be aggravated with her for being out so late but he knew about this meeting for weeks.

Leo heats up some leftover chicken soup and pours himself a glass of shiraz. By the time he’s finished with the second glass, the bath is full, steaming and inviting. He eases himself in, the hot water flushing his skin bright pink, and settles his shoulders into the curved enamel. He wishes that the water would wash away his stress, the heat would melt his tension and his worries would vanish into the mist.

Instead, the silence of the granite room and the headiness of the wine brings what is most worrying him to the forefront. Hidden under the paperwork, the long hours, and all the other trifling worries of his occupation is Gwen. With her soft smiles and light kisses. There was a sadness in her eyes that he knows he’s responsible for. But it always goes away after he treats her to a much needed vacation, showers her with the flowers and chocolates she deserves. But there was also something else in her coffee brown irises. He's been seeing it more and more lately. Like last night when they went to the launch party and then to the bar. After she came back inside from running after Adam’s brother, saying he decided to walk, she started cooking dinner. He had watched as she gently crushed the sprigs of the rosemary plant he had bought for her just a couple of days ago, between her palms, releasing the oils and the earthy scent. Her phone dinged with a message and as she studied the small screen, she smiled, seemingly unconsciously, fingering over the words illuminating her fragile face. She had slept curled away from him that night and between them he felt a vast distance.

It occurred to him that he had to try harder, stop blaming her for things that were out of her control. A caress of her cheek, a tug on her hair, a press of lips against her inner wrist--all this and he knew that she knew that he loved her. But as of late, she didn’t reciprocate the same. Her kisses have been formal, her hands distant, her eyes distracted and her smiles not for him. For the first time in his life, in _their_ life, he can feel himself flounder as she pulls away.

It unbalances him, throws him off kilter. Gwen is his constant: a constant ache, a constant love, a constant disappointment. He feels fear for the first time in years. Before, it was all or nothing--take the risk, throw caution to the wind, all the old clichés of uncertain love--but now, there’s so much more to lose.

 

* * *

 

Leo is already curled up in bed, head fuzzy and comfortably distracted, mind in that strange place on the edge of sleep, when the door creaks open.

Gwen sits on her side of the bed to remove her shoes; he reaches up with one heavy hand to stroke down her back. He feels her stifle a flinch and then deliberately relax into his touch and his stomach drops. She's only ever been tensed when he touched her and it's usually only because her skin was sensitive, no doubt bruised. He would apologize a million times over. But now, she's never flinched from him before, never pulled away like she was ashamed to be touched by him. He pulls his hand back and curls up a bit tighter on the bed.

He feels more than hears Gwen take a deep breath and the dread in his gut twists. She starts speaking and before the words even make any sense he knows what this is.

“Leo, I don’t even--I don’t know how to say this. I’m not even sure if I should...But I...I think I need to.” She’s still sitting, back towards him, her side of the bed. Her side--her side for more than a year, comfortable and familiar, her body next to his just like it’s been hundreds of nights before but this, this night, is different than the rest. The end of the rest.

“I love you. I do. I thought, when you asked me to be your’s, that I’d never want for anything else. But there’s stuff I haven't told you. Stuff that happened before we got together...I said yes to you because the person I really wanted was sick. We couldn't be together at the time. And I'm so sorry that I didn't mean it. That's so awful to do to a person. But I know, now, that you are enough. I mean that. I...but I made a mistake. I made a mistake and I fell for someone. Someone else.” Leo feels his throat closing up; he had suspected, in the back of his mind, in the same place where his monsters lurk, that place that adults suppress in order to live and forget that the world is a dark and painful place, that they’re soul isn't any better off. He had suspected but when he hears the words they shatter around him, make him angry, make him want to end everyone and everything.

“I made a mistake but he--we’re--it’s over.”

He. He. The word crackles in his mind and he knows, immediately, whose dark curls and enigmatic smile have won his fiancee's affections. He had hoped, maybe, a guy from work, an anonymous client, even one of her fucking models, someone he’s never met, someone he can’t imagine grinning at his girl like she’s Christmas. Instead it’s someone who gives her something--many things--he can’t and someone who outshines the comfortable domesticity he offers. They have a history together. They clearly had some form of intimate relationship before he and Gwen got together. And now he's back, smiling at his woman, making her rethink her entire future with him. He wants to think it doesn’t matter who Blake is, who he’s affiliated to, where he comes from and where he is now, but he knows it does. All of it does. Because Blake’s so marvellous Gwen’s not just cheating, she’s rethinking her entire livelihood being with a man like that. How can he compete?

“I ended it--I'm...I’m gonna end it. I’m staying, Leo. I’m staying with you. You’re my best friend and that’s been enough before. It’ll be enough again.”  
She trails off.

He doesn’t know what to say, doesn't know if he can in spite of what was just revealed to him and maybe it’s cowardly, but he keeps his eyes closed and his breathing even. He can't hit her, doesn't really want to, not with the way she’s talking to him right now, with her voice breaking with pain and hesitation evident in every sentence.

She’d said she’d stay, that she had chosen to stay with him, but he can tell she’s willing herself, doing the right thing, and he feels for the first time in their relationship like an obligation.

Leo feels the bed dip as Gwen turns. He stays very still. “I can’t say that again....” She reaches one hand out, centimeters from his shoulder, as if to shake him awake, and Leo can feel the heat of her hand, can feel the very air quiver with tension as he waits.

After an eternity, she pulls her hand back. Cowardice or compassion, he’s not sure. Without Gwen and her contrition, her pain and struggle, staring him in the face, it's easy to remain mad, hurt, furious. But if he has to talk to her now he’ll forgive her. It’s the same for her. He knows she harbors some sort of resentment for his past actions, the abuse and the screaming and the harsh words. But as long as she stares him in the face, she forgives just as easily as she resents.

Gwen lies down beside him, stiff and distant. When he feels the rhythmic rise and fall of her breath even out, he slips out of bed. He dresses quietly, grabbing his keys and putting on his shoes.

He won't hit her. He told himself he would stop or he'd lose her forever. But that doesn't stop his fists from clenching on the steering wheel. Decisions made in the middle of the night on wine and frustration rarely end well. But that, too, doesn't stop him from driving to the source of his ruining.

* * *

 

After a few minutes of a blank mind and blank staring, he wondered if he even had the nerve to knock. It was easy to bribe the woman down at the desk for Blake’s room number, even easier to walk himself into the elevator and press the number to his floor. But now that he was actually in front of the man’s door, just a couple of feet away from the man that took Gwen’s heart from him, it was very hard to face that failure, that cold rejection. He tried not to think about it at all. As time passed and the fake candles flickered from where they were mounted on the walls, his eyes grew heavy.

He should just get it over with. But what exactly did he plan on doing? He had no idea what he was going to say to him, what he was going to do to him. Eventually he slumped down against the hardwood and closed his eyes. He doesn't know how long he spends outside in the hallway but the aches and pains in his muscles and joints from sitting on the hard ground tell him it's been awhile. He shifts now and then in his fitful slumber. The creak of the door in front of him and a knife of cold air pulled Leo out of sleep.

Blake stood before him, eyebrows shot up in surprise. He held a drenched tank top in his hand. A mini bottle of vodka in the other. He was shirtless, and everything he said about the army and Blake, he wished he could have taken it back in that moment. His chest was a mess, a battlefield, and the rest of his body was likely the same.

"Gwen wants to leave me," Leo said, standing up slowly.

Blake watched him silently. Leo leaned against the wall, shaking the exhaustion from his limbs.

“She should.” The older man told him.

“She told me she made a mistake. Had an affair. You’re the one she fooled around with, aren't you?”

Blake didn't say anything. He stared at him for a moment before walking back inside his room. He left the door open for him, and Leo followed silently behind him. The room was a mess, mostly made up of empty bottles of booze.

“Where were you going just then?” Leo asked as he watched Blake rummage through a suitcase.

“A walk.”

“You seem to like walking a lot.” He mused.

“What do you want, Leo?”

“Gwen.”

“So you can beat on her? Use her for your own personal punching bag?”

Leo dug his nails hard into the heel of his hand. “Gwen told you.”

Blake turned around abruptly. “She didn't have to. She showed me. I saw all of it.”

“You don't know what you saw.”

No expression on Blake’s face. His eyes were as clear and steady in that moment. "You know what..it doesn't even matter. Go home."

"Excuse me?”

“She didn't want me,” Blake practically shouted. “I told her to get away from you and that I would take her away. But I bet on my life that she's at home, in your house...in your bed. She changed her mind.” Blake shook his head. “I can't help her if she won't let me. So as much as you think you wanna be angry about her cheating, she chose you. You win. So go home.”

All Leo could hear was Blake promising to him that he lost, Gwen didn't want him, and the memory of that lie she already told him made it hard to breathe.

“She still wants you, jackass.” Leo spat out.

Blake rolled his eyes and started walking to the door. Will caught his shoulder as he turned away. Blake moved to shrug him off roughly but Leo planted a hand on his chest and shoved hard. Blake staggered. He caught at the couch for balance but couldn't hold on as gravity took him down. Leo felt Blake’s panicked drunken eyes focus on him just before he hit the glass lounge table with a crash that filled the entire hotel room. The legs broke off on impact and skidded against the wall. Marble shards flew up around Blake like a spray of water. One of them cut Blake’s face deeply. Blood slid down his cheek to his mouth where he licked it away. He reached for Leo where he laid and then stopped. He held his hand open at his side like he didn’t know what to do with it. The flesh surrounding his fingers was cut as well from where he planted them in the glass on the floor to keep himself up. He was breathing through his teeth.

"I'm sorry," Leo said and he was surprised that he actually meant it. He didn't mean for Blake to fall back like he did.

"Why are you sorry? You can hit a woman but knocking me down is somehow worse?”

They stared at each other. Marble grit crunched under Blake’s feet as he shifted and stood up. The air moved around them, becoming heavier by the second.

Blake lunged for him, suddenly. Leo was rocked back by the force of his body. He blocked the hand that grabbed for him, like Gwen had done so many times before, and pulled Blake closer by the back of his neck, slamming a fist into his jaw. It hurt, and he was glad. It should hurt both of them.

Blake caught Leo’s arm when he came in for another blow and swung him around into the wall. It knocked the breath from Leo’s lungs and then Blake had him pinned down. Leo got a leg up and kneed him in the balls. Blake rolled off of him and away, and Leo followed. He landed another blow to his stomach before Blake caught him in the nose. He felt the blood rush right away until it ran down and coated his lips and then a palm smashed into his neck and Leo couldn’t breathe.

He had tears in his eyes and panic growing in his chest before he managed to get any air. He coughed hard, bent over his knees, aware of Blake in the same position a few feet away.

Blake looked up, panting, clutching his stomach tightly. Blood slid over his jaw. "She told me not to kill you.”

Leo wiped at his nose. “I think there's nothing in the world you’d want more than that, right now.”

“I’m not a murderer.”

“Ah, but you are a killer.”

He launched himself forward, and Blake was there to catch him in a grip so tight that air was a precious commodity again, squeezing hard around his ribs. Leo was too close for a decent punch. He hit Blake in the neck, but the blow skidded up and bounced off his skull. Leo twisted hard but Blake threw all his weight forward, causing Leo to fall backward.

They fell to the ground, Blake on top of him again. Leo rolled them over, hit his stomach, punched his jaw again. His hands were battered and aching. Blake seized his shoulders and twisted to the side. Leo went over, and over, stunned by the force of the wall slamming into his back.

He felt a knife suddenly at his neck and Leo stopped moving altogether.

“I should slit your throat.” Blake gritted out. But he never pushed the blade further against the sensitive skin. He actually pulled away after a minute, getting to his feet once again. He swayed and Leo couldn't tell if it was because of the alcohol in his system or from the exertion of the fight.

Leo stood his ground once more, breathing hard.

"Gwen would never forgive you.” Leo said.

Blake looked down at the knife in his hand, a small line between his eyes. Blake was strong, ex-military, he would easily beat him in a fight if it wasn't for the poison running through Blake’s blood right now. Leo knows this, it's why he takes advantage of Blake’s momentary distraction and jumps him, rolling him across the hard floor and the marble shrapnel until he had him wedged against the fireplace brick, pinned down with the weight of his body.

Blake was still clutching the knife, but he hadn’t tried to use it. "What the hell do you want from me? You’ve got her. You’ve got the only thing I've ever wanted...what else could you possibly need from me?"

Leo was groping above Blake’s head for a weapon. His hand closed around a statue on one of the sitting room’s end tables. "You don't get it. As long as you’re still alive, Gwen will only want you."

“You’re gonna kill _me_?” Blake laughed, somewhat madly and it only infuriated Leo more. When Leo still held the statue over him, Blake stopped.

He brought the knife up. Leo brought the graven down, and he was faster. Blake fell back, unconscious and limp against the marble glass beneath him. There was blood on the figurine and blood on the side of Blake’s head. Leo panicked. He wasn't sure if he wanted Blake to actually die. He's never killed anybody before.

Leo groped for a pulse at his neck and found it faint, weak, and unsteady.

He lay back on the floor, gasping. He felt for Blake’s pulse again, this time at his wrist, and held on.

Time passed. He didn’t know how long. He watched the slow drift of dust down from the ceiling. Eventually, Blake stirred, though he didn’t try to pull free of Leo’s grasp. Leo’s not even sure if he could.

"You actually tried," Blake said, but the words slurred together. He coughed and winced. “Hand me a bottle.”

Leo looked around for one that was not empty and found it under a couch pillow. He sat back down next to Blake and placed it in his open palm.

"I’ve never killed a man before."

Blake made a small noise of pain as he turned his head toward Leo and got his eyes open. "You’re a coward. Should have finished me when you had the chance." Blake opens the cap swiftly, bringing the rim to his mouth with much slower movements as he takes large mouthfuls.

Leo almost laughed. He sat back on the heel of his hand and touched his face with the other. His hand came away wet with blood from his nose. Everything ached.

Blake grasped the edge of the couch and used the furniture to haul himself upright. He crossed his legs at his ankles and sat with the statue in his lap, hand curved over it. His thumb rubbed along the marble for a few quiet seconds. "Why do you hit her? Cause I can leave. I can let her be happy with someone else, marry someone else. But what I can't do is let her stay with someone who puts his hands on her.”

Leo closed his eyes. "I don't know."

"I don’t believe you. You know why. Guys like you...you have a reason. Messed up childhood, rough couple of years. What was it?”

He shook his head. It took him a few seconds, but he straightened up, looked Blake in the eyes. “My dad used to…”

“Your dad was a piece of shit.”

Leo looked at the lump on the side of Blake’s head. Blood still seemed to be gushing from the wound. “You need to get that looked at.”

Blake ran a hand through his hair, wincing immediately when he came in contact with the gash.

"Do you hate me?" Blake asked as he stared down at the blood on his hands.

"I don’t know," Leo said. "I’m tired."

"That's how Gwen feels every time you take your anger out on her."

"I screwed up."

"Your dad screwed you up. It's not your fault."

“Why are you defending me?” Leo asked.

Blake took a swig from the bottle. “Cause I know what it's like. I know how hard it is to be something other than what your parents are. You see how they live life and you think their mistakes are normal. You think their downfalls are your own. I still hate your guts for beating the only woman I've ever loved. But she loves you for a reason, stays with you despite the abuse. There must be something great about you. You can't be all bad. No ones all bad.”

“She remembers the good times.” Leo said quietly.

“Every time should be good.”

Leo turned his head away.

They sat there in silence, Blake drinking, Leo watching him out of the corner of his eye. When Blake shifted, Leo snapped his attention back to him.

“I’m not a better person when I'm with her, but I'm better at _being_ a person. She makes me feel almost human.” Blake’s words slurred together, his eyes were unfocused, hazy.

“She looks at you like she loves you,” Leo says, and straightens, and looks Blake right in the eye as if waiting for him to deny it. “You know. The same way she looked at me.”

“She didn’t choose me.”

Leo narrows his eyes and smirks. It’s almost sad. “No,” he says. “She didn’t, did she?”

Blake’s head dropped to the side, shoulders hunched at an awkward position. The bottle fell from his hands and rolled across the floor. His eyes dropped closed involuntarily. Leo crawled up next to him, hand hovering over his broken body.

“My head...just my head…” Blake fell into him and Leo held on.

 


	11. You could be the one I'll always love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title of this chapter is from the beautiful song Unintended, by Muse, as are the lyrics to start the chapter. I recommend giving it a listen as this song was most of my inspiration for writing this chapter.

_I'll be there as soon as I can._

 

“Where is he?”

Gwen was frantic, felt flayed and scrubbed with wire brushes, and the palms of her hands were itchy. She rolled the fingers of her hand against the tremor she’d brought home from the hospital after Leo accidentally broke her wrist. Adam’s voice on the phone, probably meant to be sympathetic, was ominous. Gwen’s anxiety had leapt up when Adam woke her from her sleep and started talking through the phone-- _Gwen, it's Adam. Listen, it’s about Blake_ \--and Gwen had closed her eyes so tightly she thought they’d never open again. But Adam continued on, _Blake unconscious, Blake bruised and bloody and taken in an ambulance to Hale Hospital. Leo outside Blake’s hospital room. Leo beaten up pretty badly_. By the time he rang off, Gwen was already out of bed and into her car.

She stood with Adam and Leo outside the open door of an empty, still-made-up room in the critical care ward. Adam’s expression was pinched and frowning, but his voice was steady, something like soothing. “He’s safe,” he assured, and put his hand on her shoulder, approaching her sideways. “They’re doing scans to check for any internal bleeding in his head.”

“When did they take him?” Gwen looked around the corridor for a wall clock.

“As soon as we arrived--about thirty minutes.” Leo reported.

Gwen whipped her head around to her fiancé. “What happened to you guys? Why were you at Blake’s hotel? Are you okay?”

“I--I’m fine. We were talking...about you.”

Something inside Gwen’s chest crumbled and collapsed. “Wh--why,” she replied, and it was mucky and too quiet.

“Why do you think?”

Adam looked from Gwen’s face to Leo’s, then back again. “Look, Blake and Gwen happened a long time ago. Six years to be exact, so you have nothing to worry about.” Adam said to Leo.

Leo shook his head, arms folded tight across his chest.

A sour taste rose in Gwen’s throat. “You were awake.”

“The whole time,” he admitted.

Adam looked puzzled.

“What happened, Leo?” Gwen asked quietly.

Adam looked hard at her fiancé. “He said Blake was drunk and they got into a fight. They did a toxicology screen and he was definitely drinking.” Adam sounded disappointed. “They found no drugs but I thought he was past all this, especially the alcohol.”

There was the soft ping of a lift door at the far end of the corridor, interrupting their conversation. The elevator’s doors slid open to reveal a man and woman in immaculate scrubs steering a gurney. The body on it was the right length to be Blake’s but was tucked and covered with blankets. There was a blinking monitor resting on the mattress near his feet, and one by his head, making it further difficult to see him given the distance and his position--flat on his back with only a thin pillow under his head. The three started to walk toward the stretcher as it approached, but a stern-faced nurse with her hair scraped back tightly on her head stepped in their path.

“I’m sorry but unless you’re family, there aren't any visitors at this time,” she gruffed at them, shaking her head.

Gwen rose on her toes, straining to see over the nurse’s shoulder. Blake was utterly still on the bed--asleep, or unconscious.

The nurse’s shoulders seemed to expand outward, making her bigger, sturdier, impossible to pass.

“I’m not--” Gwen started, “I’m his--”

Blake was wheeled by them as if they weren’t there. Gwen couldn’t see his face, just the shape of his body, unmoving. The crown of his head was just visible as they entered the room, hair clumped and greasy-looking. The woman steering the left side of the gurney shut the door behind them.

“I'm his brother.” Adam said.

“You can come in. Just for a few minutes.” She beckoned and Adam followed. He vanished behind the closed door a second later.

“No one cleaned your injuries?” Gwen asked then.

“It’s just a nosebleed and a couple of scratches,” Leo finished.

“It looks like it's broken. Just let one of the nurses take a look.”

“Why did you lie?” Leo asked, changing the subject.

Gwen’s stomach was roiling; her neck was hot. “I--I don’t know what I was thinking.”

“You cheated. I asked you to marry me and you cheated.”

“You beat me!” Gwen whispered furiously. “Yes, I slept with someone else. Yes, I lied about it. But you broke my wrist. Look at my skin. At the bruises and the scars you left on me. I'm sorry for what I did. I never wanted to hurt you. But you hurt me. And I love you. Despite what you’ve done I don't know why I love you so much.”

“Do you love him?”

“Of course, I love him. I've tried not loving him. But I can't. And it doesn't matter because my love for him does not lessen my love for you. I told you that I was staying.”

“Don't marry me out of some self-serving obligation you need to fill. You want him.”

“I don't--”

“Yes you do. Just because you can't admit it to yourself, and Blake won't acknowledge it, doesn't mean I can't see it.”

“Is that what you said to him? Is that why you guys fought? What happened, Leo? Why is he lying in a hospital bed at three in the morning? Cause I know it's not from some stupid fight. He's not even awake.”

Leo shook his head, his expression a disgusted frown. “It was an accident.”

“What did you do?”

“Nothing he didn't deserve. Same with me,” he announced.

Gwen was surprised by his admission, so much that she had no more words to say, no more questions to ask. 

She turned away from him to walk down the corridor, fetching a chair of metal and molded plastic the colour of rust, which she set in the space between the doors of Blake’s room and the next. She sat down, back straight, knees parallel, with her elbows on the chair-arms and her hands on her thighs.

“What, you’re going to sit there all night?” Leo asked.

Gwen lowered her voice, leaning forward so Leo would be sure not to miss a word. “I’m staying here until Blake wakes up. I don't know what happened in that hotel room but you called an ambulance. You cared enough to bring him here and stay. So unless you’re going to drag me by my hair all the way out to the parking lot like you did across our kitchen floor, I'm not leaving.”

Gwen didn't know where her newfound courage came from to talk to Leo like that but one thing she was sure was that he wouldn't do anything to her while they were in public, let alone a hospital.

The room door shushed open before he could respond, and Adam came out, looking paler than he had before. As Gwen gained her feet, he gave her an anguished look, then walked straight into Gwen’s embrace; both closed their eyes. When he pulled back, Adam’s eyes glistened, but he fought it.

“The nurse and I were trying to clean him up a bit,” he reported. “Sponge bath. It’s hard to move him too much, he just groans. His body is bruised and cut from the glass. Especially his back. We’ve got him laying on his side.”

Gwen nodded and reached for his hand, swallowing hard. “Did he say anything? Is he awake?”

“He wouldn’t say much in front of the nurse. We mainly washed the blood from his hair. No internal bleeding, though. Hairline fracture between his wrist and elbow but it doesn’t even need splinting. It could have been much worse, I suppose. He went back to sleep just before I left him.”

Leo pinched the bridge of his nose then winced in pain. “I’m sorry, Adam. I really didn't mean for any of this to happen.”

“It's not completely your fault. He was drinking. I’m sorry about your nose and everything.”

Gwen couldn’t bring herself to say anything, didn’t know what she would say even if she had the energy to expend on it.

She persuaded Leo to finally get his injuries looked at. Adam led her to one of the waiting rooms and sat with her the whole night. She was surprised when Leo stayed as well. He didn't offer her any comfort and she was sure he only stayed out of absolute regret for putting Blake in that hospital bed. She fell asleep on Adam’s shoulder, her mind running on empty despite being completely full of thoughts and memories she had no recollection of at the moment. What she really wanted was dreamless oblivion, but that isn’t what she gets. She dreams of a loving embrace. She dreams of a warm presence in her bed fitted adoringly against her. She dreams of soft, soothing words whispered into her ear. When she wakes up, anxious and aching, she can’t decide if she wants to laugh or cry at the fact that her dream companion certainly wasn’t Leo.

* * *

 

Nurses went in and out of Blake’s room throughout the night, and shortly after dawn, a young nurse who Gwen hadn't seen on the night shift stood before her, a small smile on her face.

“Would you like to go in and spend some time with him? One of the nurses said you’ve been waiting since last night. I know you’re not family but I can see how much you want to be in there with him. He’s asleep but you can sit at his bedside.”

Gwen looked down at a sleeping Adam, his head now the one to rest on her shoulder, and then over to Leo who was spread out on several chairs, sleeping as well. She looked back at the nurse. “Thank you,” and a tight nod and smile was all Gwen could manage in response.

She carefully maneuvered Adam’s head back against the wall and stretched herself gratefully from the chair. She followed the nurse down the hallway and she stood back against the open door as Gwen passed, then pulled it shut to give them privacy.

The attempt to brace herself for seeing Blake’s battered face was woefully inadequate, and Gwen was momentarily relieved that Blake was not watching as Gwen was confronted with it. She stood a few feet back from the edge of the bed, breathed, and assessed his wounds: cut upper lip that neeeded few sutures; skin abraded on his forehead and jaw where the glass sliced away at skin and tissue. There were flakes of dried blood visible inside his ear and Gwen knows he’d had signs of concussion.

There were x-rays tucked in the lightbox on the far wall, clipped and bright from where they hung. She didn't know how to read them, of course, but she looked at one of them, of Blake’s forearm, with the hairline fracture of his ulna that Adam had reported. A view of his skull on the next one revealed nothing troubling, but the note underneath the third suggested there might be another minor, spidery fracture near his eye socket.

Gwen moved away from the proof, and to the head of the bed. She reached over the side rail to touch him--found that all at once she needed desperately to touch him--but worried for a place to touch that wouldn’t hurt him. Resting her arm on the pillow, she leaned close and stroked Blake’s bangs back a bit, not touching his scalp or forehead, but coaxing the hair aside with curled fingers, then going back again.

After a few passes, she whispered, “Blake? It’s Gwen. I’m here. Just want you to know I’m here.”

The barely-encouraged curls stayed far enough to one side that Gwen found a patch of unmarked skin. She bent, and pressed her lips to the spot, and lingered for a moment.

“You’re gonna be okay,” she whispered against Blake’s forehead. “You’re gonna be fine. We’re gonna be fine.” She regained her full height beside the bed, and resumed stroking Blake’s hair.

Gwen rapidly found herself lulled by the hiss and pulse of various monitors, the dull drone of the ventilation system. She shook her head, cleared her throat as quietly as she could manage, and blinked hard several times. When her gaze fell on Blake’s face again, there were trails of tears streaming from the corners of his eyes, sliding down his temples into his hair.

Gwen’s fingers ghosted across his forehead, beneath his waves of hair. “Hey,” she hushed. “Hey. Waking up?”

Blake’s eyes came open. They scanned in a vague circle until his gaze fixed on Gwen. She managed a small smile. “Hi,” she said.

Blake’s eyes screwed shut and his shoulder jerked. Gwen went on stroking him, kept her voice just above a whisper. “You’re okay. It’s fine now. I’m here and I’m not leaving.” Her free hand came to rest gently on the middle of Blake’s chest, which shuddered with another sobbing breath. Gwen went to pull her hand back for fear of touching a wound but with some effort visible in his already deeply pained expression, Blake drew his arm out from under the blankets and found her hand resting there over his heart, and held it.

“It hurts.”

“I know.”

“I'm sorry.”

“Stop it. I did this. It's because of me that you’re here. I shouldn’t have left.”

Blake’s fingers squeezed harder around Gwen’s hand. He swallowed and then winced.

“Do you want some water?” Gwen asked.

“Mm,” Blake acquiesced, and Gwen offered him a plastic cup from the nearby rolling table, guided the drinking straw between his lips.

Blake pulled away and his voice was hoarse with disuse. “My head hurts.”

Gwen reached for Blake’s hand again, resting by his hip on the bed, and cradled it, stroking her other hand over the back of his fingers; there were scrapes and bruises on his knuckles, one gash at the base of his index finger. “The doctor said you have a concussion.” She lifted Blake’s hand and dipped her head to meet it, pressed a kiss to the back of it.

Blake closed his eyes. “Don’t ask,” he said, just above a whisper.

“You guys had a fight.”

Blake let out a quiet moan that sounded almost thoughtful. He kept his eyes closed. After a hard swallow, he nodded. “He was mad. I don't blame him.”

“What happened to your head?”

“He hit me with something. I don't remember.”

“Blake--”

“I almost stabbed him. And if I hadn't been drunk...I probably would have killed him.”

“I’m sorry.” Gwen adjusted her grip on Blake’s hand.

“Why did you change your mind?”

“...I felt guilty. And I was scared. We’ve never been together without something else always between us. Your addiction, my husband, and now Leo.”

“Your abuse.”

Gwen closed her eyes. “I was scared that I was gonna leave everything behind for you, only to find out that we don't work. Everything we’ve been through, it would have all been a waste if we didn't end up staying together forever. Leo was the safer choice. And I thought I could do it. I thought if I loved him, harder and stronger...his punches might become a little more softer, a little bit weaker...and now look where we are.”

“Together.” Blake whispered and Gwen finally let tears she's been holding back since she got there, fall.

“I think I want that house right now. And a big white fence.” Gwen whispered back.

Blake managed a smile.

“I love you. You know that, right?”

Blake nodded, but his other hand came up to the bed rail as he let go of hers. He gritted his teeth and his grip shifted a bit on the metal but did not loosen. Blake sniffed and drew in a sharp inhale as if he might speak, but instead only choked on a mild sob. He withdrew one hand from the side rail and brushed it across his face. He wiped his nose with the corner of the bed sheet. Gwen waited. It was excruciating, interminable, knowing Blake was weeping, struggling to gather his composure as waves of pain knocked him over from every angle. Gwen stroked his hair and offered her own hand to be clenched in that terrified grip.

Silent and still, patient, she waited.

Nearly three entire minutes passed before Blake at last stopped shaking.

“Do you want me to call a nurse? Is it your head?”

Blake’s forehead was sheened with perspiration, his eyes glassy and pink-veined.

He nodded. Gwen went to press the call button before coming back to Blake’s side. She dipped her fingertips into Blake’s hair and leaned to kiss him quickly at the corner of his eyebrow, then breathed against his temple.

“You should be the one I’ll always love.”

 


	12. I made you mine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We've come to a beautiful ending my friends. I want to say thank you for anyone who read this story as well as the last. Thank you for commenting and being so incredibly gracious with your words. I'm not sure if this needs a epilogue or if you guys even want one to maybe see how Blake exactly got Gwen away from Leo but just let me know in the comments if you do want a epilogue or if I should just leave it here. :) k go read.
> 
> Before you do though....The title of this chapter is from the phenomenal song Made you move, by Lykke Li, as are the lyrics to start the chapter. This song is also the song Apollo "wrote" and sings. I recommend giving it a listen as he does.

_Run just to fall_

Gwen feels the beginnings of Blake stirring awake. She lifts her head from where it had been resting on the bed next to his left hand, watching Blake come back to himself, slow and unhurried. She can see it first in the way the muscles of Blake’s face lose that strange plasticity, in the pursing of his lips and the tautness of the skin beneath his eyes. Then in the flex of his fingers, tightening around her own, and the flare of his nostrils as he smells the sickness and bleach of the hospital. He’s halfway to consciousness before he ever opens his eyes, blinking up at Gwen blearily.

“Gwen?” He asks, voice hoarse from sleep and confusion. His fingers tighten again and Gwen squeezes back, leans over to press chaste kisses to his lips.

“Hey,” she says back tenderly.

Blake’s eyes dart around the room, disoriented, taking in the dark shadows and dying fluorescent light. Then back to Gwen’s face, searching. Gwen kisses him again, deeper, keeping her eyes open.

“I’m here,” she murmurs, and brings their joined hands to her own chest, letting Blake’s knuckles skim over her collarbone and over the raised silver around her neck--the sunflower necklace.

Blake’s breath leaves him in a rush and he arches up for another kiss, which Gwen gladly gives. When Gwen pulls back, she can see in Blake’s eyes that he’s taking a lot on faith here. He doesn’t understand what’s happening, or even where they are.

Gwen realizes how vulnerable Blake’s injuries have made him. But it isn’t just the physical, it’s the mental and emotional as well. She didn't know the extent of disorientation he’d experience upon waking, nor the amount of pain he would suffer. And it was all her fault.

Gwen holds tight to Blake with one hand and then remembers how tender he must be and softens her touch. She disentangles her other hand to cup his cheek lightly. “It’s 11:34 at night. We’re in the hospital,” Gwen says in reassurance. “You’re Blake Shelton, and I love you.”

The impact of the words is much the same as him finding out she was going to runaway with him: honest, grateful surprise and the welling of affection in his eyes. Gwen brings Blake’s hand to her hip, presses her fingers into a tight grip there. His strength is returning with every passing minute and he’s able to hold on.

She hovers over him and Blake’s attention is on her entirely. Gwen can feel the weight of his gaze drinking in the sight of her. It’s only a couple of minutes before she can see the awareness returning, Blake’s eyes going sharp. “You stayed.”

“Of course, I did. I'm not leaving without you.”

Blake shifts uncomfortably on his side, moving to turn on his back but stopping at the sharp pain that emitted from his wounds, remembering how he had fell back shirtless on the glass table, no doubt.

“Adam?”

“He’s here too. He's getting coffee. Behati and the kids are on their way.”

“When can I leave? How long have I been here?”

“Almost a full day. The doctor said you can leave as soon as the swelling in your head goes down and they fix your arm up a little bit.”

Blake nodded faintly and grabbed for the cup of water on the rolling table. He took tentative sips before handing it off to her so she could place it back down. Gwen pulled up a chair by his bed and sat down again.

“I never wanted to lie to you. Everything I said I meant.”

“We don't have to talk about this right now, Gwen.”

“His anger was the only thing that made sense.” She continued, ignoring him. “When he was nice and loving, it confused the hell out of me. And it shouldn't. Because they all start out like that. They don't jump to the part where they start hitting and screaming. So when he did, and when he would stop and go back to the way things used to be, I didn't know what was happening. I still don't know.”

Blake’s eyes were soft with sympathy, and Gwen would have felt sharply self-conscious and feared being pitied except that she so desperately needed sympathy just then.

“He would tear the house apart trying to figure out where I went. Once he knew that I had left.”

“You tried to leave before?”

“It's hard to when no one knows what’s going on.”

Blake’s lips tightened and he looked like he wanted to shake his head but didn't; Gwen could tell it was purposely controlled. Their initial conversation about this specific topic was much the same except Blake was coming close to a boil every few minutes they talked.

“How many times..”

“Three.”

But now Gwen is at her fourth try. Before, she had been ready to return to Leo and ready to run away with Blake in equal measure. Now, she can't see herself anywhere but by Blake’s side.

“Once, he found me by getting the desk clerk at the hotel I was in to admit I was there. He packed my bags, all the while calling me over dramatic and ridiculous, and I didn’t argue. I’d used up all my energy getting the nerve to go, so when he came for me it seemed useless. I had no energy to keep running. The next time, I went back on my own because--” Gwen stopped, met Blake’s gaze and then flicked her eyes away, settling them on the machine he was currently hooked up to. “I wanted to have sex with him one last time. But then once I was home of course I couldn’t bring myself to leave again.”

“I understand,” Blake said quietly.

“You don’t,” Gwen corrected him immediately, “But it’s okay that you don’t. I know you’re trying but let's face it. You’re not a girl. You might have gotten shot, and burned, and cut god knows how many times, but you’ve never been beaten by somebody you love. Somebody who promises that they love you too. You don't know what that's like but you’re here, and you’re listening to all of it and that's the only thing that matters to me.”

Blake nods his head solemnly, knowing the truth of her words.

“The third time, I managed to stay away for a week. I stayed with my son, Apollo. He’s my youngest and he's works for another record label, songwriting mostly, but he's a beautiful singer...he saw the bruises one day. I was cooking dinner for us when my sleeves got wet and I rolled them up...I wasn't even thinking, and then he saw them, up and down my arms. He was scared at first and then he was angry. He went right to the phone to tell Kingston and I couldn't--I begged him not to because I was leaving him. That's what I was there for...to come up with a plan and leave. There was no point in telling anyone else. He agreed as long as I was for sure leaving Leo.”

“But you didn't.” Blake said quietly.

Gwen shook her head. “I had to go back to work eventually, and he was there. He wouldn’t stay away, almost made a scene in the office that could have ruined me and the reputation that I built for myself. I couldn’t get him to move out of the house. I felt like I would lose my entire life--the fashion line, my career--and I couldn’t do it. Leo and I built this whole little life together.”

“You felt obligated to him,” Blake offered.

“Gavin almost took everything from me. It took everything I had left to keep going after he died. To make art of tragedy. I worked so hard to get where I am and Leo was going to take it away just like that.”

“So you went back. How come your son never said anything?”

“He’s angry, and smart. He knows you can tell everyone in the world about my abuse but unless I want to leave...unless I find the strength to say no and defend myself, it wouldn't have mattered. So he stopped talking to me, stopped calling, stopped visiting. It's why he wasn't at the bar with us when you met Kingston and Zuma. They don't know anything about this, and they don't know that Apollo won't talk to me.”

“Ever?”

“He said I can be his mother again when I leave for good. I thought Leo might let me go at one point, just before you got here. We’d call off the engagement and he’d leave me alone to do my work. But he made it clear he wasn’t going anywhere. It ended in an argument, and...well.” Gwen shrugged. “I walked with a limp for two weeks. I wasn't about to keep pushing. He could easily take me away from the job, everything I worked to get. So if I wanted all the rest of my life, he came with it. And he isn’t always like that.”

Blake cleared his throat. “So what’s different now? A soldier and a pension?”

The hairs on Gwen’s forearms rose, prickling at the sudden cool edge to Blake’s voice.

“If you don’t want me,” Gwen began, though her heart was thrumming out her desire--no, her need--to stay right where she was, at least until she’d sorted things out a bit, made a plan, got them both away from this mess.

“That’s not it. You know I want you.” Blake reached across to rest his hand on Gwen’s thigh just above her knee. The weight of his palm and fingers was a relief. “But am I enough? You say you stayed for your job, which you still have. You stayed for the life you have now. But I’m not staying here, Gwen. As soon as I'm able, I'm leaving. I can't give you what he can if that's what you want. If I'm taking you with me, we’re going away. Is that gonna make you happy?”

“You make me happy.”

“I also make you sad. And I’ll make you angry. I’ll disappoint you more often than I’ll make you proud. But I won't ever put my hands on you, Gwen. I’ll cherish you. I’ll be devoted to you. Is that enough?”

Gwen shook her head, closed her eyes, overcome with emotion. She needed to answer his question before she lost her nerve and left a live wire hanging over their heads, buzzing and dropping sparks.

“What’s different is that you said things...that reminded me what it’s supposed to feel like. And it was like, all at once, I let out this massive breath I didn’t even know I’d been holding for years. And then I just carried on breathing. And it’s different. It's more than enough.”

Gwen opened her eyes but didn’t look at Blake, couldn’t bear to.

“I’m glad,” he finally said softly. “You’ll be okay. We’ll build something new, together.”

“First we have to get away,” she whispered.

“Don't worry about Leo. I’ll take care of it. All of it. You’ve been through enough. I don't want you to feel overwhelmed anymore.”

“I don’t,” Gwen assured him, and leaned over his chest, nuzzling her forehead against Blake’s temple and then littering little kisses along his jaw and cheek, the corner of his mouth. “I don’t feel overwhelmed. I told you. I feel like I can finally breathe.”

 

* * *

 

_Six months later_

Apollo is slim, long-limbed, and angular above all else. His jaw and cheekbones are sharp, with the latter also being high and prominent on his face. His dark blonde hair curls and frames his face, somehow managing to make his features even bolder. But it’s his eyes that really give Blake pause. They are narrow and piercing in shape and the exact shade between brown and red in color. Blake has only seen those eyes studying him from one other face, and he thinks back to the photo of Gavin Gwen stills has in her sock drawer. It doesn't bother him. He is, afterall, the man who helped bring three brilliant boys into his world.

“Long time no see little brother,” Kingston says brightly, shocking Blake from his thoughts. “Let me finally introduce you. Blake, this is Apollo, the baby of the family. Apollo, this is Blake Shelton, mom’s boyfriend.”

“Nice to finally meet you,” Blake says, keeping his voice steady and reaching out to shake the young man’s hand. “Your mom talks about you all the time.”

“And I’ve heard countless stories about you. My brothers seem to think you’re the best thing that's ever happened to her,” Apollo says.

“I can't compete with you boys.”

“I’d be shocked if you could,” he says, a small smile tugging at his thin lips.

Blake chuckles. “I hear you’re quite the songwriter.”

“It's more of a hobby.”

“Apollo, you’re being too modest. ‘A hobby’,” King says, scoffing at the understatement. He turns to Blake. “He can write a song in three minutes.”

“Your mother can write one in two,” Blake remarks, raising his brows in interest.

Apollo’s smile is blinding and he shrugs airily. “I have an unusual family. She's the original talent.”

“We’re lucky men,” Blake notes before taking a long sip of his drink.

“I agree. Speaking of, mom’s waving me over. I’ll be right back,” King says before he takes a step back from Blake and Apollo. “Before I forget to ask Blake, are you free for dinner tomorrow? Our flight doesn't leave until Monday and I want to go fishing.”

“Any time,” Blake responds. “Just give me a call.”

Kingston smiles. Turning his attention back to Apollo, he tilts his chin up and the smile turns proudly authoritative. “I'm happy you made it down here Pollo. You made mom extremely happy.”

“I don't think I'm the one that made her this happy,” Apollo eyes flitted to Blake’s for a second before returning to his brother’s.

“Still,” King gave him a pointed look and with that, he walks off, leaving Blake and Apollo alone.

Perhaps it’s just the heat or lack of wind, but Blake thinks he feels the atmosphere noticeably change between them. Apollo’s expression is still friendly, but there’s a glimmer of calculation in his eyes.

“I guess I should say Happy Birthday.” Apollo says quietly.

“It's not required.”

“I think my mom would disagree.”

“It's my birthday.” Blake mumbles and Apollo laughs shortly.

“I just can't believe you convinced her to move all the way out here.”

“Oklahoma is a great place to live. Adam and I for the most part grew up here.”

“I'm sure she loves it. She tells me all the time over the phone how much she's learning. But L.A. was her life.”

“Well, she’s mine. I guess things changed for her, too.”

Apollo hums. “I should be saying thank you. She finally left him.”

“Wasn't easy.”

“No. I didn’t think it ever would be. You remind me of my dad in that way.”

“How so?”

Apollo looked over to his mom, standing and talking with a bunch of their neighbors south of the ranch. “My dad didn't give my mom what she wanted. He gave her what he wanted her to have. And you, for the most part, are the same. She probably wanted to stay in L.A. Probably wanted to keep her job. Wanted to be closer to us in case we ever needed anything. You gave her what you wanted her to have. This ranch, the bar in the city, the clothing store. It's all great. But probably not what she thought. The only real difference between you and my dad is that you also gave my mom what she needed. And in return, she realized that it was the only thing she ever really wanted. To be cared for in that way.”

“I only want what's best for her.”

“So do I.”

Both men take a sip of their respective drinks, lulling into a surprising, comfortable silence.

“You’re very different from your brothers.” Blake says after a couple of minutes.

Apollo looks back to him. “My parents’ relationship was strained when I was younger,” he says. He casts his eyes down to his drink and slowly twirls the stem of the glass between his thumb and forefinger. “I remember some of that time, that strange period between arguments and finding out my mom had a miscarriage...two in fact. I remember it the way people normally remember lost moments of their childhood. Hazy and dreamlike for the most part. I was an accident. Not really planned, not really real until suddenly I was.”

He takes a sip of his drink and looks off to the side into the distance, as if his past is physically present at the other end of the yard. He sighs and continues, “I remember lying on my bed in our old house. King had bought me this clear glass candle lamp to go on my bedside table. And there was this huge moth that was obsessed with the fire inside. It flew its body against the glass over and over, trying to get to the flame. I knew that if it did, it would burn. But that didn’t seem to matter to it. I stared at the moth for over an hour and hearing my parents trying to argue without having their voices heard over the thin walls separating us, I realized something important. It was just a stupid moth that didn’t know what was best for it. Didn’t know that if it got what it wanted, it would die burning.”

The more Blake looks at him, the more his words roll over him, the more certain he becomes. The shape of his cheekbones. The curl of his hair. The cadence and content of his words. Apollo was a younger version of himself. Aware of the world’s cruelties at such a young age. Aware of its beauty yet cautious of it at the same time. It takes all his concentration to keep his hands from trembling, to keep himself from grabbing Apollo’s shoulder with that trembling hand, to keep that hand from shaking him, from pulling him closer. It's like the son he never had. The son he should have had.

“What did you do about the moth?” He asks. He’s impressed by how steady he manages to sound.

Apollo’s lips quirk into a wry smile. “Nothing,” he says.

“The moth was your mom. With your father and with Leo.” Blake offers.

“I thought about catching it in my hands and opening the window for it. I’d keep it from what it wanted, but it would live. I thought about lifting the glass. I’d let it get what it wanted, but at the cost of its life. I was young. I didn't know which was the merciful of the two, and eventually I fell asleep.”

Apollo studied the ground. “When I woke up, it was laying on the table. It bashed itself to death against the lamp overnight. I realized that it doesn't matter what option you choose, always do a merciful thing.”

Apollo looked back up to him. “My mom’s the moth and now you’re the fire. Please don't burn her.”

Blake holds his gaze for what feels like an eternity.

“You’re different from them because you grew up knowing that you would be alone forever, just like they said.” Blake finally voices.

Apollo drops his gaze. “Kids at school.” He said by way of explanation.

“Mine didn't start until high school. It was only during my time in service and then after I got to go home. I never thought that after…there’d be anyone like your mom. She's kind and decent, and despite what she says, _normal_. And she chose me. And I don't have any idea why or how, but she chose me and they were wrong. The kids, the army, my own family...the _drugs_. They all made me feel like I wasn't good enough.” He met Apollo’s eyes. “She's the only thing I've ever been proud of. Anything else I've ever done, I've ever accomplished, it's because of hard work and skill and luck. But your mom--she's mine because of _me_. Whatever it is that she sees in me, it must be somethin’ of value for her to love me. I would never let that go for anythin’. And Apollo...you’ll find someone who makes you feel everything I'm feeling right now. You’re amazin’. I wish I got to know you when you were younger. We could've been great for each other.”

He can tell Apollo’s heart has nearly stopped when Blake lays his hand on his upper arm. His eyes dart to Blake’s, and they’re panicked and wild, before they give in to something warm and grateful.

“Which would you choose, if you had been me?” Is all he asks, lowly and slowly, as he turns his head to look at him face-on again. “The window or the fire?”

“The window,” Blake answers without hesitation. “But if I were the moth, the flame.”

Apollo reaches up to tuck a stray curl back behind his right ear. “That’s what mom said when I asked her the same question, but that was a long time ago. I think she rather kill the temptation altogether then get burned, or be set free never having the opportunity to try again.”

“No one's free.”

“No….they’re not.”

* * *

 

Apollo sat on a stool, a guitar in his lap as he lightly strummed it to warm-up. He was only dressed in swim shorts now and a black V-neck, having went for a swim in the lake and then the pool. There was a large crowd surrounding him, all the guests in the large sitting room, some sitting on furniture or the floor, others standing, but no one was talking, their attention wrapped up in the young man in the corner. Blake sat with Gwen pushed neatly up against his side, his arm wrapped around her tightly.

“I wrote this song in two minutes…” He looked over to Blake for a pointed second, and both men smiled. “This is for my mom, as much as it is for the birthday boy.”

His face was downcast as spoke into the microphone and tuned his guitar. Then, he started playing it skillfully as he introduced the song.

“What is it?” Blake asked, noticing the sudden change in Gwen. He was ignored as Apollo started singing.

_I made you move, I made you move_  
 _From the man you are._  
You made me move, you made me move.  
Run just to fall.

_If I'm not a woman, I'm not a woman_  
I'm just a ray of light.  
Fall fast so steep, low.  
You made me move.

Gwen brought her hand to her mouth, placing her fingers on her lips as she watched Apollo sing to complete strangers.

_I made you mine, I made you mine_  
 _Beside myself you're mine_  
You made me change from the weak  
Made me lose my chain.  
No longer woman, I'm not a woman  
I'm just a ray of light.  
Fall fast so steep, low  
You made me move.

_You made me move._   
_You made me move.  
You made me move._

Apollo looked down at his guitar and breathed the last words, almost completely inaudible.

_You made me move._

The crowd clapped loudly and Apollo nodded, muttering a “thank you”. He stared at his guitar for a few seconds, before he patted his guitar neck and stood up. He walked over to his guitar case and laid it neatly back inside before closing the latches.

He felt hands on his face before he felt lips moving against his own. He hummed happily and when Gwen pulled away, he smiled.

“You okay?” He asked, softly.

She nodded, still cupping his jaw. “I always I thought I needed love to change me to be happy but you don't change me. You move me, Blake. And Apollo is the only one who saw that.”

He saw tears gather in the whites of her eyes and he longed to brush them away. “Amazing kid you have there.”

“All three of them are.” She leaned in for another kiss. “I'm gonna go say thank you for us. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

He watched her stand and walk over to her son, pulling him into a tight hug that Blake knows the feel of. It’s an embrace he could never forget. And every time he’s feeling it, and it’s always the first thing that he’s feeling, even if he were plunging into the Atlantic, his first thought would be about the woman he’s holding onto and the woman who’s holding onto him.

* * *

 

Blake wakes her in the predawn hours. Gwen is mostly useless, wiping sleep from her eyes as Blake practically dresses her in the gloomy blue light of the room. The house is asleep, feels like the world is asleep as they ride his four wheeler through the quiet woods that make up is property and into the foothills of the grey and brown mountains. Gwen holds on tightly, enjoying the vibration of the bike and the steady, warm back she’s pressed against. The roar of the motor blocks out all other sound, and whatever artificial lights are still left on give way to nature with only moonlight to illuminate their surroundings. Through the visor of her helmet, everything is shaded in blue.

It takes over an hour for them to reach their destination, climbing at a steady rate that makes Gwen’s temples ache at the constant changing pressure. Fog flows around them, thicker and thicker the higher they climb, obscuring the dense forest. All she can see is the pavement a few feet ahead of their headlights.

They reach a gravel pullout, still no other sign of life. The early morning is still and dark. Blake leads them on a trail into the forest, and they climb higher still. Her muscles are unused to the incline, and her calves burn after so long. Something about this place reminds her that she's never truly known peace.

Blake is unflagging, barely out of breath, catching Gwen under the arm whenever she stumbles on a divot or stray branch underfoot. After the third time, Gwen slips her arm free and laces their fingers together. When they reach the summit, there is enough ambient light to see by, though dawn has yet to break. It’s cool enough that Gwen appreciates the jeans and long-sleeved shirt Blake dressed her in. They’ve risen above the damp of the fog. Below them the mountain, Blake named Kingston, and the river that is blanketed in thick cloud cover, Zuma. As the sun begins it’s climb over the horizon, they light up vivid orange and red, and as though they’ve caught fire, dissipate on the air. The sky goes gold along the sea, fading into pale pink and bruised purple. They remind her of her abuse and she smiles at where she is now, how far she's come.

Slowly the details of the landscape become discernible. The bodies of water first, as the sun climbs higher. The rivers spreading inward from the ocean miles and miles away as though they’re being filled anew only when the light touches them, cutting through and around the elevation. As she watches, Gwen imagines blood flowing through them, making order where before was darkness and chaos. She compares it to the way Blake pumped her heart anew.

“What will you name Apollo after,” Gwen asks, her voice breaking the silence for the first time since they began their climb.

“You see all that grass down there.” Blake points to the far side of the mountain where a huge tree is stuck right in the middle of the clearing. It stands tall and proud, mature and weathered. Gwen nods.

“That tree is called a Bur, Oak. It’s normally grown in urban areas where air pollution is heavy, and poor drainage systems are still used, and compacted soil isn't properly fertilized. Despite its shitty environment, it grows. And it's beautiful. Way out here, where it can just be, it’s even better. That right there, that's Apollo.”

Gwen lays her head on Blake’s shoulder. “Do you wish you had children?”

“That path wasn't meant for me.” Gwen notices how his response didn't answer her question. “That was Adam’s calling. He knew how to be a dad and I knew I had to watch him be one to ever figure it out. Now it's too late.” There’s a slight edge of bitterness in his tone but Gwen knows him by now to see how much benevolence is laced between the words.

“Jealousy always colors our perspective,” Gwen says, because it's both kinder and crueller than saying love. “Thank you for bringing me here.”

She raises her head and from her periphery, she can see Blake turn to look at her, soft-mouthed and wondering. He draws a breath and holds it for a moment before speaking, and it occurs to Gwen that he’s having to think about what he wants to say.

“You reach in every part of me, Gwen. It's hard to know what is me and what is you.”

Gwen turns to him fully and smiles out of nothing more than happiness; Blake echoes the expression. As clearly as if she is occupying two moments at once, Gwen can see that same smile directed at her as they sit together in heaven. If only her touch could reach across the time and space between them, to draw Blake in as she does now, kissing him tenderly.

“You’ve always been there,” Gwen murmurs, twining her fingers in the hair at his nape. She kisses him softly, lips barely touching.

They turn back to watch until the sun is fully over the horizon, casting a sparkling column of light over the water. The forest is alive with the sound of wildlife again. Blake helps her to her feet and Gwen stretches, feeling the old, familiar ache in her limbs.

Gwen stops him halfway down the slope, perched precariously on the shifting rocks and loose soil, pulls Blake in by his shirt and says again, “Thank you for this. It was perfect.”

“You know there’s nothing I wouldn’t give you. I bought you a home, boats, a bar, a damn building to make whatever clothes you want. I’ll always give you everything you need...”

“But?” Gwen can see that he wants to say more.

“But you treat all of it like it's priceless, and when I thought it was impossible, you make me love you more.”

Gwen smiles widely. “What do you want?”

“You.”

“You have all of me.”

“That so?”

Gwen leans their foreheads together and allows a subtle breeze to pass through them.

“You know, it’s a dangerous thing...giving a man everything he's ever wanted.”

Gwen hums, clutching him tighter.

“Sometimes I think this is all a dream.” Blake whispers.

Gwen slides her hand into his curls and holds tight, tilting his head back just slightly. “It’s sometime in the morning. We’re home,” Gwen says in reassurance. “On our ranch in Oklahoma. You’re Blake Shelton, and I love you.”

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> -JL


End file.
